


Those Benevolent Stars

by peachcitt



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrinette | Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Happy Ending, Ladrien June, Ladrien June 2020, Ladrien | Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng as Ladybug, Thief Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, but like in a eat the rich kind of way, listen we're just tender and we're yearning in these ladrien hours, oh yeah and, sort of. it's a background sort of thing, soulmate au - color
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:08:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24713629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachcitt/pseuds/peachcitt
Summary: “Will you come back?”She looked up at the deep blue sky, as if she could somehow find the answer there. “I shouldn’t,” she said, shaking her head and looking back at him. But the stars were still there, caught in her eyes, and Adrien persisted.“But will you?”oradrien meets his soulmate, a thief who calls herself ladybug. he falls for her, but she seems determined to maintain a space between them.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 95
Kudos: 214





	1. Little Pinpricks of Starlight Dancing in Her Sky-Colored Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> enjoy :)

Night pressed gently on the windows, and Adrien stared at the ceiling. His lights were off, each one of the lamps and candles extinguished, but even if they were on, it wouldn’t make much of a difference. The light would be gray, and the ceiling would be gray, and the stars would be gray, and he would be gray, too.

When he was little, he didn’t know that gray was a bad thing. It was just the way the world was - he didn’t really get it when people would give him strange looks for grabbing the wrong gray paint to color with, and that was fine. His mother would stroke her fingers through his hair and say “that’s a lovely picture, Adrien; I’ll put it in a frame and hang it up in the parlor.” And she would. The parlor was filled with his paintings, childish and gray, back then. 

It wasn’t until the tutors came with all their textbooks and rules that Adrien realized that gray was bad. They told him about soulmates, and about how they were so rare, now. He’d probably never find his. He’d never be given the chance to - inheriting the company was too important. And so he’d see gray for the rest of his life while the whole rest of the world lived on in color.

His art tutor put labels on the paint. He tried to describe colors to Adrien - blue is like water, soft and smooth, red is like fire, warm and striking - but it was just paint. Adrien didn’t get it. And he never would.

Sleep was far away. It was late - the sky was black, and every window on the street was that same black - but Adrien got out of his bed, padding over to the large windows on the other side of his room. He pushed the curtains aside, unlatching one of the windows and swinging it open. A hot summer breeze came up and brushed across his face, ruffling his hair, and he closed his eyes.

Soulmate.

What a strange word.

The very nature of it implied that he was only half of a whole, only one part of something bigger. And he could feel it - feel that emptiness gnawing at him in his chest. He didn’t use to feel this way.

When the tutors told him about soulmates and about how he would always only be half of a whole, he didn’t get it. He felt whole already. He didn’t need anyone else, not even someone who was supposedly tied to his soul. But now was different.

He wasn’t as whole as he used to be.

Most people didn’t even believe in soulmates anymore. They were so common a couple centuries ago, but now, they were just folklore. Legend. If you saw in black and white, in gray, then your eyes were just wrong. People three hundred years ago would travel around the world until their world became just one person and a whole lot of color, but now you stayed in one place and only traveled if you had money and hope, which most people didn’t. 

Adrien did have money, but he had responsibility. That was the same as not having money. And Adrien wasn’t really sure what hope felt like. Maybe something like happiness.

He opened his eyes, looking up at the pinpricks of white on black up in the sky. It was hard to see the stars now, what with all the factories and machines popping up around the city, but the smoke wasn’t as thick at night, what with the new laws requiring all of the gears to stop running. Adrien liked the new laws. He liked the stars.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he wondered if his soulmate was looking up at the stars now, too. 

“Oh, they’re looking,” his mother used to say when he’d asked her, before he found out that going out to look for his soulmate would never happen, “and if they’re not, the stars are still in their eyes.”

That aching hole in him pushed up against his ribs, and he left the windowsill, although he left the window itself open. It would air out his room while he was out.

He pushed open his bedroom door, slowly and quietly so that the old wood wouldn’t creak so loudly, and he crept down the grand staircase, skipping over the steps that creaked the loudest. He walked through the parlor, decorated no longer with his childish drawings but with sophisticated paintings in large, mahogany frames. His footsteps were soft on the empty ballroom floor, and he crossed through the space where people normally danced to get to the door of the music room.

That was where he’d always gone when he had felt too much. It was something about the purposeful quiet in a room full of objects made to make noise. He’d been going there more often in the past few months.

When he pushed open the door to the music room, he froze.

There was a person. 

Standing in the music room, right by the piano.

At first, Adrien thought it was a man - it was dark in the room, and the curtains were drawn tightly shut - but the silhouette was all wrong. Yes, he could see that the figure standing by the piano was wearing men’s trousers, loose around the thighs before wrapping tight around calves adorned in- in  _ polka-dotted socks?  _ And the figure was wearing a waistcoat, too - not tailored, but tied neatly at the back so that it was fitted.

But as Adrien’s eyes trailed over the figure’s arms, where the sleeves of the figure’s blouse gave way to the coat draped across their back, Adrien realized that it was not a man in front of him. The coat, he could tell even draped as it was, was a woman’s. And the figure’s waist was small, and her hair was long, braided neatly down her back.

She had a scarf tied around the bottom half of her face and a satchel slung across her shoulders. He could see, even across the room, that the satchel was filled with gold trinkets from his father’s office. The chain of his father’s pocket watch was hanging out from the lip of the bag.

The figure still hadn’t noticed him - her back was turned to him, and she seemed to be looking through the drawers where all the music was kept for something more to stuff in her bag. Adrien’s mind raced.

The papers had been talking about a thief. A woman who dressed in men’s clothes, who stole from the rich and liked wearing polka-dots. They said she dressed in red, too, but Adrien didn’t know much about that.

The woman turned around, frowning down at something she was holding in her gloved hands. It was a ring. Adrien’s stomach leaped up to his throat.

“Hey!” he called out, and the woman’s head snapped up.

Their eyes caught on each other.

And the world exploded.

Adrien staggered back, shielding his eyes, and he heard the clatter of the ring dropping to the floor. 

His back hit the wall, and he took heaving breaths in, his lungs aching, his head pounding.

When he finally uncovered his eyes, the world was far from gray.

It was-

It was full of something, full of  _ everything.  _

The woman was crouched down on the floor, her hands pressed flat on the rug, the hair that wasn’t tucked neatly into her braid hanging around her face. He could see her chest move rapidly as she took ragged breaths in and out.

“Hey,” Adrien said again, but his voice was softer now. He stepped away from the wall, although he still felt dizzy, and he reached his hand out for his-

For his-

“Don’t come any closer,” the woman snapped, scrambling to her feet. He saw her fingers close around the ring as she stood up. She reached behind her back, unsheathing a short knife and holding it out in front of her. “If you yell, if you shout, if you signal to  _ anyone  _ that I’m here, I’ll…” She trailed off, her voice breaking.

She was looking at him now, and he could see it in her eyes that she felt it too.

The colors. 

The wholeness.

The desire to fall to her knees. To reach for each other.

But she held the knife in her shaking hand, pointing the tip at Adrien. Her eyes were breaking across him, taking him in.

And Adrien didn’t know the name for the color of her eyes, but they were gentle and deep, even as she tried to glare at him. They were beautiful.

“I’m not,” Adrien said, finally managing to find his voice after the heavy silence that had stretched between them, “going to call anyone. It’s  _ their  _ fault for not being able to catch you before you got in.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“That was a joke,” Adrien said quickly, trying to show her a smile.

Slowly, she lowered the knife, pushing back her coat to sheath it behind her back. “You’ve got a weird taste in jokes,” she said, and it wasn’t much, but it was something more than a knife pointed at him.

“My taste in jokes is impeccable - that was just a slip up,” he said, taking a step closer to her. She tensed, but didn’t back away. “Let’s just start over, okay? Give us a chance to say  _ cello  _ to each other.” He gestured to the cello propped up in the corner of the room, and she looked over at it.

Her eyes sparkled, and Adrien thought about the stars.

“I don’t know,” she said, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall next to the bust of one of the ancient Greek muses - Euterpe, the muse of music. “That still wasn’t very a- _ muse- _ ing.”

Adrien blinked.

They stared at each other.

Their laughter crashed through the silence, and Adrien felt it again - that connection, that wholeness. 

And when he opened his eyes, the evidence of it was all around him, in the nameless colors of the carpet and the curtains and her coat and her eyes.

When their laughter died down, he looked at her, wanting to reach out and touch her, but restraining himself. He reached out to her instead with his voice. “Who are you?” he asked, and she tilted her head at him.

“They call me Ladybug.” She gestured down to her socks. A bright color dotted with black spots. Adrien supposed that was what ladybugs looked like. Her waistcoat, her coat, and the scarf covering her nose and mouth were the same color, too; that bright color - saturated and alluring. Adrien decided he loved that color - same with the color of her eyes, although it was far different from the bright color of her clothes. It was soft and gentle and smooth, and Adrien decided that he loved that color the most.

“What do  _ you _ call you?” Adrien asked, and she tapped her gloved finger once against her bicep.

“Ladybug,” she replied, voice stiff, and Adrien’s shoulders sank.

“You won’t tell me your name,” he said, and something like a laugh fell from her.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I have a bag full of your family’s valuables. And I’m not planning on giving them up.” As she said this, she opened her fist, revealing the ring she’d taken from the music drawers. She moved it so that she was holding it between her thumb and forefinger, watching it glitter in the low light. “Can’t have you knowing the name of a thief - especially since  _ I  _ am the thief.”

She moved to drop the ring into the bag.

“Wait!” Adrien said, and she stopped, raising her eyebrows at him. “You can’t take that.”

“Why not? I’m taking all of this.” She gestured to the bag.

“None of those other things matter,” Adrien said, shaking his head. “But that is-” He stopped. “That was my mother’s.”

Something in her expression softened. She looked down at the ring in her hand, and then tossed it across the piano to Adrien. He caught it, just barely, and held it close to his chest.

“I have to get going now,” she said, and she turned to the window, pushing back the curtains and peering through the glass, presumably for the patrol that Adrien’s father kept around the place. When she didn’t see any, she opened up the window.

“Wait,” Adrien said again.

“I’m not giving anything else back,” she said, but she still stopped, turning toward him and letting the summer breeze come in and fall across their cheeks.

“Didn’t you-” He broke off, gesturing to all around them - to all the color and life. “Didn’t you feel it?”

She stared at him, the color of her eyes digging and piercing and stabbing through him. “No,” she said softly, her voice pushing through the quiet until it reached him and held him. “I didn’t.”

Her eyes fell away from him, and she closed the satchel, jumping through the window. He saw her pause on the soft grass, her shoulders tense, and for a moment Adrien thought she might look back.

But she didn’t.

He watched her run away, slipping her arms further into her bright coat as she ran so that it was snug across her shoulders and shielding the bag, and he watched her jump up onto the wall surrounding the mansion and climb it with ease.

When she had reached the crest of the wall, Adrien saw her pause again.

_ Look back,  _ he begged, feeling the words push through his heart, his ribs, the air between them.

She looked back.

And then she was gone.

  
  


\---

  
  


Adrien opened his eyes, gasping for air like with that one breath he could somehow take in all the new colors of the world inside himself. He’d half expected to wake up and for it all to have been a dream - the woman in the music room, his soulmate made of all the colors that Adrien now loved.

But when he opened in his eyes, the ceiling wasn’t gray. And neither was the light or the blankets or even his skin - they were all different colors. So different and so dizzying that he almost felt like he was going to throw up.

His head was pounding, too. Which was not helping his queasy stomach in any way at all.

After staring at the ceiling in nauseated wonder for a solid ten minutes, he finally felt okay enough to get out of bed. His body moved slowly, like he was full of jelly, and each movement made his brain throb right where his eyes were. And then he was standing.

And then he was running to the bathroom, making it just in time to throw up in the toilet.

He felt awful.

He’d never felt more alive.

There was nothing on his schedule for the day, so he locked himself up in his room, pulling out his paint set from underneath his bed. He would look around the mansion and the grounds later - first he had to put names to the awe-inspiring colors assaulting his eyes.

Instead of pulling out his stool and his easel like he normally would’ve if his art tudor was here, he placed the spare canvas straight on the ground, scattering his brushes on the floor and spreading the jars of paint all out in front of him.

The labels were still on them, and he opened up the lids to each jar, staring at the color and the labels and feeling, once again, like he was going to throw up. But in the best kind of way.

Because now he knew that the color of the handles of his paint brushes was orange.

The sunlight streaming through his window was yellow - a softer, lighter version of what was in the jar. The color of the grass outside was green. The color of the suit he’d worn to a party a few days ago and left draped over the chair by his desk was purple.

The color of his soulmate’s coat had been red.

The color of her eyes had been blue.

He dipped his orange paint brushes into the paints that now had names that meant something, painting with two paint brushes in each hand across the canvas. He painted with abandon, with fervor - with something that felt like love.

Painting had never felt this way before - or maybe it had, back before he knew about colors. But in the past few years, he’d always dreaded when his art tudor would come. The sessions were always so strict and disheartening, each one a reminder that he was different and wrong. And the things his tudor made him paint - fruit bowls and landscapes and draping fabric - they were all beautiful in their own right, but his tudor was always so focused on the color of things, like he was trying his hardest to train Adrien to somehow know the difference between different shades of gray. To assign names to them, like they weren’t just gray. To hide the fact that he was only one part of something else.

But now he was just painting, throwing color after color onto the canvas. He was still in his nightgown, and his mouth tasted like morning breath and acid, and paint was getting onto his hands and face and floors, and it was better than it had ever been.

When he had filled up the canvas, he set it to the side and found a finished landscape painting that he’d done a few weeks before. It looked amazing in a way that Adrien hadn’t been able to appreciate before, and technically, it was very impressive. He had a good tudor, after all.

But it could be better.

He smeared orange and purple over the plain white clouds; he made the gray shadows under the buildings bright blue; he drove lines of red down the cobblestone roads. And then he moved onto the next painting.

And the next, and the next after that.

Each one of his old paintings that had been left in his room, he made filled with vibrant and dancing colors. They were nice before, but Adrien loved them so much more after he’d run colors through all the grays and whites.

When he was finished with the ones in his room, he finally flung open his door, determined to grab all of his other boorish landscapes and fruit bowls and whatever else from the guest rooms where they’d been hung and make them better, but stopped short when he saw his father’s assistant, Nathalie, standing in his doorway with her dark eyebrows raised in surprise.

For a moment, they said nothing.

Her eyes - they were blue, a beautiful shade, but so cold - moved to look behind Adrien, taking in the paint on the floors and all of the paintings scattered around the room. She looked back at Adrien, her eyes flicking up and down. 

Adrien looked down at himself. He was covered in every single color he owned in his jars.

Nathalie cleared her throat. “You didn’t come down for breakfast,” she finally said, and Adrien laughed.

“I forgot,” he said, and his stomach rumbled.

She blinked. “How about you… get dressed and I’ll have the chefs make something light for you before lunch.”

“That sounds amazing,” Adrien replied. Her dress was navy blue. She was wearing red lipstick. “You look great today, Nathalie.”

Her eyes squinted up, and she tilted her head to the side. “I’ll…go tell the chefs now. Ring the servants if you want your room to be.” She stopped, glancing again at the mess of paints around the room. “Cleaned up.”

She left quickly after that.

Adrien went over to his closet, throwing it open and laughing at all of the colors that resided there. He had shirts, waistcoats, ties, and socks from every color in the rainbow, and almost every color in between. His trouser and slacks options were considerably more limited, but still amazing nonetheless.

He had heard some people say that brown was their least favorite color. Adrien didn’t get it. All of his brown slacks looked  _ lovely. _

Although his world had just changed in such a marvelous way, Adrien did his best to act normal around Nathalie for the rest of the day. If she noticed anything strange with him, she would immediately report it to his father - and, although the disorganized and messy painting was odd, it could easily be explained away.

He’d heard the upper servants - the ones who knew that he had a soulmate and saw only in gray (at least, up until last night) - whispering about rebellious young adult behavior. That was a good excuse.

But he couldn’t actually betray the fact that he could see colors now. That would only bring questions about who he’d met and where and how and when. 

Those questions wouldn’t be fun to answer.

And he wanted to keep his soulmate - the woman who calls herself Ladybug - a secret for a little longer. It was wonderful, but it was also personal. Intimate. He wanted to keep it as close to himself as he possibly could.

And he did.

  
  


\---

  
  


He came back from a walk in the gardens late in the evening a full week after his world changed. He’d taken to walking outside a lot, in between lessons and his other responsibilities. The air was warm - summer was close by - and all of the gardens were in full bloom.

His mother had loved the gardens dearly. She was the one who planted the rose bushes - by hand, even though his father had pointed out that they had servants that could do it for them. But she had done it herself, and Adrien sat on the bench next to them often now - almost as much as he used to sit in the music room, although he still did that some nights.

But the garden and the rose bushes were different from the music room and the piano. The music room was colorful, too, now, but it wasn’t about the color, really. He’d gone to the gardens at first because of all the bursting greens and vibrant pinks and splashes of orange, but he’d stayed because of all the life tucked into each individual leaf and petal, each blade of grass and thorn.

She loved the roses - and she’d loved the piano, too, but her life wasn’t in the keys like it was in the roses. They keys only held her when they were played, when they were paired with the marked up sheet music she’d used and the fingers of gentle and skilled hands. The roses held her every second they opened their faces to the sun because she was there, at the roots. She was there in each petal.

The roses were a striking red, the shade that was so deep and alluring.

As Adrien walked into his room, he lifted a rose he’d cut from the bush up to his nose. It smelled sweet and watery. It smelled red.

His window was open. He could feel the warm breeze coming in and ruffling the petals of the rose, and he frowned. He could’ve sworn that his window had been closed.

When he looked up, he froze.

Ladybug was sitting on the ledge of his windowsill, one leg pulled up to her chest, the other hanging down toward the ground below. Her face was turned away from him - she was looking up at the sky - but he could still tell it was her.

Because of her striking red coat. Because of her polka-dotted socks. 

Because of-

There was this-  _ energy  _ buzzing through his skin, racing over his bones from his fingertips to his heart and back down again. 

He knew it was her because of her clothes, and he knew it was her because he could feel it. He just knew.

As if she could feel the same buzzing as he did, she bristled, her fingers flexing and her head tilting to the side.

Finally she looked away from the stars, turning her face to him. But he could still see them there - each one she’d looked at. Little pinpricks of starlight dancing in her sky-colored eyes.

“You,” he said, his voice merely a whisper, and he quickly closed the door behind him. It was late, so the chances of any of the servants wandering the halls now was low, but he didn’t want to take the chance that someone would find her.

“Hello to you, too,” she replied, voice soft and smooth. The intricacies of her expression were hidden behind that same scarlet scarf tied over the bottom half of her face, and Adrien wondered if seeing her lips would help him identify what the squinting of her eyes and the tilting of her head meant.

He thought it naive to hope she was smiling.

“How did you get up here?” he asked, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head. His room was on the second floor, which didn’t sound like much, but the ceilings were tall. His room was directly above the ballroom.

Ladybug moved her legs so that her feet were planted on the wood floor of his room, drumming her fingertips on the windowsill. There was a twinkle in her eyes, and Adrien knew that  _ now  _ she was smiling. “A girl has her ways.”

Adrien shook his head again, and he laughed. That feeling - that buzzing underneath his skin - was still there, and somehow he knew that it would only disappear once he could be close to her. But he was afraid to take another step toward her, lest she pull a knife like she did last time or simply… run away. He didn’t want her to go.

“Interesting choice of decor,” she said, breaking the silence and nodding her chin at the paintings strewn across the room. 

The servants cleaned up the paint from that first day, and since then, Adrien had been more careful with the colors, but he was still painting over his old landscapes with brighter colors, more life. His half-finished projects were propped up all around the room. Adrien suddenly felt self conscious.

“I’m sorry it’s a mess,” he said, standing helplessly. It’s not like he could stack the paintings into a neat pile - some of them were still drying. “I’ve been on a painting spree as of late, so…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely around the room.

“I don’t mind,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders. She pushed herself off from the windowsill, walking with silent feet around the room and examining each painting. If he closed his eyes, it would be like she wasn’t there at all. Except for the buzzing. The insistent itch to be closer. “You painted all of these?”

“Some of them are pretty old - a couple of years at least,” Adrien said, gesturing to the older paintings of single apples or other random objects. “And I’ve just been painting over them because I…” He trailed off, gave her a smile. “Yeah. I painted all of these.” He stopped, looked at her walk over to his desk, where the first painting he’d made after his world burst into color was propped up and still drying. She stared at it for a long while. “Do you… like them?”

For a moment, she didn’t reply, her eyes still caught on the painting. 

And then she turned back to him, and there was something new in her eyes. Something warmer.

“They’re all so… lively,” she said, and that’s exactly what his art tudor had said before proceeding to yell at him for a solid half hour about the importance of preserving your work and  _ not  _ painting over your old works like some sort of degenerate, but she said it like it was the best compliment she could’ve given to anyone about anything.

Adrien felt his smile come all the way up from his toes, moving through his legs and his heart and his lips.

“Thank you,” he said, and her eyes were still so warm on him. He took a deep breath. “I started painting them when I started to see colors for the first time.” He paused. “When I met you.”

Ladybug turned away from him. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think you do.”

“I told you that night that I didn’t feel anything.” She crossed her arms, turning back to him and throwing him a glare with her warm blue eyes.

“You lied,” he said, and it was almost like he was begging her.

“What do you want me to say, Adrien?” she asked, throwing her hands up in the air and beginning to pace, her figure moving back and forth across the shape of the window. Wherever she turned, the stars seemed to follow. “That I broke into your house, stole countless valuable items, and found out that the person I was stealing from was actually my soulmate? That I used to see gray, but now, because of you, I see color and life in even the littlest things? That my favorite color is green because I remembered that it’s the color of your eyes, that every part of me wants so badly to be close to you, that I feel all of these things and don’t hate that I feel them?” She shook her head, a scoff of something that was only half a laugh escaping her mouth. “Not happening. I’m not your soulmate, Adrien. I can’t be.”

Adrien sat back on the edge of his bed. He stared at her.

“Well?” she asked, her smooth voice, the color of her eyes, trying its best to be sharp. “Are you going to say something?”

“You know my name,” he said, and she stilled. She fixed the cuffs of her coat. Adrien leaned forward. “I never told you my name.”

She crossed her arms. She wasn’t looking at him. “A thief has to know her mark.”

“You get to know my name, but I can’t know yours,” he said.

“I told you - they call me Ladybug,” she said, but Adrien shook his head.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

She sighed. “I can’t tell you. If one person knows, then everyone knows.”

“I wouldn’t tell anyone,” he said, but she shook her head.

“I stole from you. I can’t take the chance of you changing your mind.”

“But you didn’t take anything from me, not really, and not anything I cared about.” He thought of all the stupid trinkets that his father had barely missed. He thought about the pocket watch his father hadn’t even noticed was gone. He thought of his mother’s ring, still in its place by the piano. “And I wouldn’t change my mind.”

“I can’t know that for sure,” she said.

“You can.” He stood up, walking over so that he was standing only a foot in front of her. And still, that distance felt like the width of a canyon. If anything, the buzzing in his skin got worse. She seemed to feel it, too, but they both pushed it aside for the time being. “Did you know? I picked my favorite colors, too.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, sky blue eyes confused.

“I have two,” he continued. “Red” - he held up the rose from the garden, offering it to her; it was the same shade as her clothes - “and blue.”

Realization seemed to dawn on her, as her fingers wrapped around the stem of the rose. Something seemed to fracture, deep within her, and she stepped away from him.

“I have to go,” she said, her voice shaking, and she started to back toward the window.

“Wait,” Adrien said, reaching out but not quite grasping her gloved hand. She stopped, one leg already out of the window.

“What is it?” she asked, and it looked like she was at once yearning for and dreading his next words.

“Will you come back?”

She looked up at the deep blue sky, as if she could somehow find the answer there. “I shouldn’t,” she said, shaking her head and looking back at him. But the stars were still there, caught in her eyes, and Adrien persisted.

“But will you?”

“I…” She looked down at the rose in her hand. Then back at him. He could almost hear the fight happening in her head and in her heart.

Instead of saying anything, she simply gazed at him, all the sky in her eyes, and she held the rose close to her chest. 

“Goodnight, Adrien,” she said, and then she jumped down from his windowsill.

Adrien nearly cried out, but he clamped his hands over his mouth, not wanting to alert the patrol. He watched her fall, tucking into a roll as she hit the ground. Once she was on her feet, she ran to the wall as if she hadn’t just jumped out of a window.

And, just like the first night she’d come, she had no trouble climbing up the wall. She looked back, there at the top of the wall, for just a brief second before jumping down to the outside of the wall.

But in that brief second, he could see her silhouette, gloved fingers holding the rose he’d given her close to her face, like she was taking that small moment to appreciate it’s scent.

“Goodnight,” Adrien said, softly. He leaned on the windowsill, closing his eyes to the warm breeze. 

It smelled like roses.


	2. The Night Sky and All the Gray Clouds in It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have something to tell you,” he said, and her eyes turned to look at him, searching.
> 
> “Am I going to like to hear it?” she asked, and Adrien took a deep breath. He looked over at her and met her eyes, studying her.
> 
> He shook his head, swallowing thickly. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check the end notes for details on the music map!
> 
> enjoy :)

Adrien fixed his posture[¹](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uz8wNrVLG5Q), taking a deep breath. He placed his fingers on the keys and closed his eyes, fingertips light and hesitant on the keys.

His father hated to hear the piano, but he and Nathalie were away on a business trip to the next city over, so Adrien was taking these few days that he was as alone in the house as he could get to play the instrument his mother loved. He hadn’t played in so long - not since her memorial.

That had been a year ago now. Time passed so quickly, even when every second felt like a knife to the chest.

He pressed down lightly on the key resting beneath his thumb. It let out a small, mournful noise.

Letting out a small sigh, he opened his eyes and looked over the piece in front of him. The notes fell quietly across the page, and Adrien only trailed his eyes over them - not exactly reading, just remembering - before he closed his eyes once more.

And then he began to play.

The piece started small, just a few notes played almost hauntingly. It picked up only a few notes later, beginning a lilting melody that made Adrien lean into the keys, that made him open up a part of himself that he hadn’t touched in a year.

He remembered the memorial, swallowing down his grief as he sat down at the piano. There had been some stupid typical sad song printed on the sheet music waiting for him, and he knew that was what his father had wanted him to play. Something easy and without any memories that the two of them would have to face. But when Adrien had placed his fingers on the keys, he hadn’t been able to do it.

What came out instead was this piece - this piece full of grief and longing. His mother had played it a lot near the end, before she was too sick to get out of bed. It was the piece she played when she lost her own mother, it was the piece she played at night when his father had stormed out for the night after one of their many fights, and it was the piece her fingers played when she realized she was dying.

Adrien remembered sitting there in the music room, watching his mother close her eyes and pour herself out onto the keys, attacking herself and picking herself up again all in one.

She had liked to tell stories about the pieces she liked to play. When Adrien finally got the courage to ask, after the last big fight she and his father had - right before she got sick - she had been quiet for a moment, pressing the tears she thought Adrien hadn’t seen into her cheeks.

“It’s about being apart from someone you love,” she’d said, giving Adrien that sad smile that she’d given him far too often. “It’s about wanting to go to them, but being too far away.”

He played the last note - a quiet, small, mournful note - and then let out a shaking sigh. When he opened his eyes, he saw Ladybug, sitting on the windowsill. She had her eyes closed, but when she realized he had finished playing, she opened her eyes and stared at him.

“How long have you been here?” he asked, wiping his eyes and swallowing down the lump of his throat. 

Since the first night she’d come to visit him, she’d come a few more times over the next few weeks. Never on a set schedule, and always when Adrien least expected it. She was always so quiet - her feet blended in with the night, and he never noticed that she was there until she made herself known.

He commented on it, the third time she’d come to visit. She said that was what made her a good thief. The way she’d said it was almost like a joke, but they both knew it wasn’t.

She didn’t take anything when she came to visit - or at least, she didn’t take anything that Adrien noticed enough to miss. And when she came, they would talk. About colors or music or jokes. But they would never talk about what Adrien wanted most to talk about - that they were soulmates. Every time he would start to breach the subject, she would leave. 

It made him angry.

But not angry enough to stop himself from giving her a smile.

“Only since just after you started,” she replied. “I was going to say hello, but I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Thank you,” he said, and she nodded, crossing her ankles and swinging her feet back and forth. Adrien watched her, feeling fondness tug hard at his chest.

“I should’ve known you would be able to play piano,” she mused, picking at the sleeves of her blouse. Since visiting, she’d mostly ditched the scarlet coat and sometimes the waistcoat - she admitted that they were growing too hot to move around in what with the summer breathing down their necks. She still wore the polka-dotted socks, though. “You can paint like a master, and you can play piano like a professional. What else can you do?”

“I took violin lessons as a child,” Adrien said. “I wasn’t very good at it, though. My father couldn’t organize any business meetings during my practice times because his partners would wonder about the dying cats trapped in the walls.”

Ladybug laughed - a small, quiet sound. Despite the fact that she still wore the scarf that concealed her nose and lips, she still raised a hand up to her mouth, like she was trying to cover up the sound of her smile. Adrien loved the sound of her laugh, though. It reminded him of the blue sky. Of her blue eyes.

“It’s heartening to know you can be bad at things,” she said, the laughter still there in her eyes. “Leaves something for the rest of us to be good at.”

“Glad to know my imperfections serve the greater community,” he replied, bowing his head humbly. When he looked back up at her, they both cracked up, filling the waiting quiet of the music room with the colors of their laughter.

As they began to reign control of themselves, Ladybug traced a gloved finger over the windowsill, looking down for a moment before looking back up at him. Her eyes were serious now. Searching.

“What were you playing?” she asked, and he felt the sorrow from before return to him. 

“It was a piece my mother used to play,” Adrien said softly, looking at the sheet music in front of him. His mother’s scribbled notes were still scattered around the page, although they were faded.

“It’s beautiful,” Ladybug said softly. She knew about his mother - Adrien didn’t know if it was because of her research on his family before coming to steal from them, his mother’s loving charity to their city, or because Adrien had quietly told her about his mother two weeks ago. Perhaps it was a little of all three.

Adrien took the sheet music off from the ledge, holding it gently in his hands. “Do you know,” he started, voice hesitant, “since I’ve started to see color, I’ve been… tasting it, smelling it, hearing it.”

He was afraid she wouldn’t understand or that she would deny it if she did - something she sometimes did when they breached a little too close to the topic of soulmates for her liking. But instead, she just nodded. “Like lemons,” she said. “They smell so sharply yellow.”

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “And this piece - the one that I played just now - it sounds like…” He trailed off, shaking his head and furrowing his eyebrows. “It sounds gray.”

And he hated gray. It was the only color that he didn’t like.

“No, it doesn’t,” Ladybug said, sounding so certain that Adrien raised his eyebrows at her. He couldn’t be certain, but he thought he could see the tips of her ears turn pink. She looked away from him. “Or maybe it does, a little bit.” His shoulders sank. She hurried on. “But not in the way you’re saying.”

He stared at her. “Will you explain what you heard to me?”

At first, he was afraid that she’d say no, but then she took in a deep breath, closing her eyes. “I heard the ocean. Calm waves - that’s what’s gray. But the sky that touched the ocean was pink and orange and purple. Like sunset. Or sunrise.”

“Sunset,” Adrien said quietly, and she opened her eyes, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “The piece. It’s sunset.”

The line between her eyebrows disappeared, and her eyes shone with a soft smile. “Yeah,” she said. “It’s sunset.”

Adrien stood up from the stool, going over to where he kept the sheet music and putting away his mother’s grieving song. “I haven’t been to the ocean in a long time,” he said as he riffled through the other music pieces. “I haven’t thought about it in a long time. Thank you for reminding me.”

Ladybug was quiet. He thought she wouldn’t answer, so he busied himself with going through all the sheet music that he hadn’t looked at in so long. He found another one of his mother’s pieces - this one being connected to happier memories. He held it in his hands, and he smiled, turning around to tell Ladybug about it.

“I was born there,” she said[²](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XVUY8hoV65I) before he could say anything, and he blinked. He lowered the sheet music.

“What?”

“By the ocean,” she said, not looking at him. “I was born there.”

“Oh,” Adrien said. He took a step back to the piano, back towards her. She rarely talked about herself - only little things, like how she loved strawberries and how she liked taking off her boots any time she walked on the banks of the Seine. Never big facts. He felt as if this moment was fragile enough for him to break it with the wrong words. He swallowed. “Do you miss it?”

She let out a small sigh, standing up from where she was sitting on the windowsill and turning around to face the night air and the gentle stars above. “I hardly remember it,” she replied, shaking her head. Slowly, Adrien walked across the room until he was standing next to her. She made room for him so that they could both lean out of the window. “Just…” She trailed off, closing her eyes. “The sound of the waves. The salt in the air.”

She breathed in, like she would be able to smell the salt here, so far from the ocean. Adrien breathed in, too, and he thought, just maybe, it was there.

“My parents,” she started, her words slow and halting, “moved here for an opportunity when I was very young. They moved here for me.”

Adrien turned his face to her, but she kept her eyes away from him, her arms crossed where she was leaning against the windowsill. “You wish they’d stayed by the ocean?” he asked, and her eyebrows furrowed, her shoulders drawing up to her ears.

“No,” she finally said, and then sighed. “I don’t know. My parents are doing well enough to get by, but life here makes me feel so…” She searched for the right word for a moment. _“Trapped,”_ she decided. “I don’t know for sure, but maybe by the sea, I would feel freer.”

“I know what you mean,” Adrien said, and then stopped. “Or at least, I feel something very similar to what you’ve said.”

She finally looked at him, blue eyes searching. “Tell me.”

He nodded his head, turning his back to the sky outside and leaning against the windowsill, eyes trained up at the ceiling. “I was born here, in the city. I was raised here in the city, and I think I’ll die here in the city. I’ve gone away a couple of times, on business trips with my father, but we’ve always returned here. To the city. To the predestined plan of my life. To all the responsibilities.” 

Ladybug looked at him. “Is that plan of your life what you want?” she asked, and Adrien felt something that felt too bitter to be a laugh crawl out of his throat.

“It doesn’t matter what I want. It’s what my father wants, and he always gets his way.”

She lowered her head. 

They were quiet for a moment, and then she pointed down at the sheet music he still held in his hands. “What’s that?” she asked.

“Oh, it’s just a song my mother loved. I wanted to tell you about it.”

He could see her smile glitter in her eyes. “So tell me about it.”

“She said it made her think of the roses she kept in the garden - and about all the people she loved.” He paused, feeling a mixture of grief and love slide through him. “She said she thought about me the most when she played it.”

“She must have loved you a lot,” Ladybug said, and Adrien smiled. She tilted her head at him. “Will you play it for me?”

“Well, since you so graciously asked,” he said, bowing elaborately at her. She giggled, moving her hand up to her face like she always did, as he walked back over to the piano bench and sat down, placing the sheet music on the ledge.

He took a deep breath[³](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jdip2gPN5j4), placing his fingertips on the keys and fixing his posture. He knew he could play it by heart, but he kept his eyes open as he began the first soft chords.

It started so gently, so sweetly, and Adrien couldn’t help but look up at Ladybug as he began the melody. He reached out to her with his eyes, with the music he played, and by the time he finished the first phrase, she moved away from the windowsill and sat next to him, on the edge of the piano bench.

Not close enough to touch him - they never touched - but it was closer than she’d let herself be to him ever before. The buzzing sensation underneath his skin that had become so familiar to him in the past weeks hummed inside him, and he closed his eyes to the feeling.

He lost himself in the loving melody of the piece, to the soft greens and pinks and blues of the notes. He could see it now - why his mother said it reminded her of the roses out in the garden. The colors of the garden and the roses alike were all there in the music.

When he finished with the slow, cascading notes that bled together like water, he opened his eyes and turned his head over to Ladybug. She was already looking at him, her eyes soft.

“You love playing the piano,” she said, and he smiled.

“It’s because I’m so good at it,” he replied, but they both knew he was joking. 

“Teach me, then, oh master player,” she said, and he blinked.

“Teach you?” he asked, and she nodded. “Like… the basics? Keys and notes and how to read music?”

She waved her hand to the side. “Just this. Teach me how to play this song about the roses.”

“But to learn to play it, you have to know how to read the sheet music-”

She pushed him to the side, and although it was just her gloved hands pressing against his clothed shoulder, the touch still felt electrifying. He shivered, and she took advantage of it to push him farther over on the bench so that they could sit side by side. “You can tell me all of that later. Right now, just tell me what keys to press, and I’ll press them.” She tapped a finger to one of the white keys, making the note ring out around the room.

“It’s not exactly a beginner’s piece, and it’s confusing to have to use both hands when you’re still a beginner, and-”

“Adrien,” she interrupted, giving him a look. “Just tell me what to press.”

He squinted his eyes at her, but it was clear she wasn’t going to stop asking, and he couldn’t really say no to her anyway. He sighed. “I guess I could just teach you the melody?”

“Yeah, you can,” Ladybug encouraged, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

So he taught her the melody to the piece, one note at a time, and she listened diligently to him. She was a fast learner, as it turned out, and it didn’t take long for her to be able to play the melody the whole way through - the piece was short and the melody repeated itself a lot, which probably helped.

When she’d gone through what she had learned without a single mistake, her eyes sparkled, and she turned to him. “Now the rest of it,” she said, eyes bright like the stars looking in through the window, and Adrien felt his heart warm even as he yawned.

“It’s so late, Ladybug,” he said, shaking his head and laughing. “Aren’t you tired?”

“I was, but I want to learn this,” she replied, as if that somehow made her tiredness go away.

“You already learned the whole melody,” he said, and she nodded.

“Yeah, and now I want to learn the rest of it.”

“How about this,” Adrien said, rubbing his eyes to try and wake himself up. “We play it together now, and I’ll teach you the rest of it another night.”

She looked hard at him. “Okay,” she finally said, “but you have to promise to teach me the rest of it.”

“I promise,” he said, and she held up her pinky finger at him.

“Swear it,” she said, her eyes glittering, and Adrien grinned. He hooked his pinky finger with hers.

“I swear.”

Since the melody and the chords often switched places in terms of where they were on the keyboard during the piece, Adrien told her to just focus on what she’d learned and not to pay attention to what his own hands were doing. He’d have to reach over her hand, but he promised not to be too invasive about it.

Then they began to play. Adrien began with the chords, and he nodded his head at her when it was time for her to come in.

As they played, together, Adrien felt it - that feeling of wholeness and completeness that came when that had first caught eyes on each other, when they’d laughed together, when they’d been in the same room. But now she was next to him, and their hands were working side by side to create a whole landscape of color for them to bathe in.

He was focusing on the keys so as not to disturb her hand, but he knew without looking over at her that she was smiling, that she felt that connection, that she could hear the roses. 

When the song faded into those quiet, flowing notes like the dew on the petals, his hand ended up crossed over hers, so close. 

And then the last of the sound finished ringing around the room and the waiting quiet of the room came back, pressing up against them. They didn’t move their hands, and Adrien knew that if he shifted his hand in just the right way, it would be over hers, holding hers.

He could feel her breathing, could feel the heat from her body, could feel the warm buzzing under his skin.

He turned his head to her, finding that she had already turned to look at him. 

Their faces were so close. 

There were freckles peeking out from underneath the scarf she had concealing her face, running along the tops of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. He could count every one of her dark eyelashes if he wanted.

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to hold her hand.

Just as he was about to say these things, to ask if she felt the same, she spoke.

“It does matter,” she said, and he blinked.

“What?”

“What you said earlier. About how it didn’t matter what you wanted.” Her voice was so quiet, and it matched the blues that had peeked through the notes of the song, there among the springtime green and the gentle reds and pinks. “I think it does. It does matter what you want, Adrien.”

“Ladybug,” he started, but she pulled away, standing up from the piano bench and walking fast toward the window.

“It’s late,” she said, and she wouldn’t turn her eyes to him, like she was embarrassed. “You said you were tired, and I really should be going back home now.”

“I want,” he said, and she finally looked at him, eyes vulnerable and perhaps a little scared. Like she was afraid of what looking at him and being close to him meant. He realized that what he wanted was too much for her right now.

He let out a small breath, turning around and taking his mother’s ring from its usual place by where all the sheet music was. Taking it in his hands, he walked over to her, holding it out to her.

“I want to give you this,” he said, and she looked down at the ring in his hand, her eyebrows furrowing.

“But isn’t that your mother’s?” she asked, looking back up at him.

“Yes,” he said, and he took one of her gloved hands in his, placing the ring in the palm of her hand and closing her fingers around it. “And now it’s yours.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head and trying to give the ring back to him. “I won’t take this from you-”

“You’re not taking it from me. I’m _giving_ it to you,” he said, pushing her hand back towards her chest and keeping her fist closed around the ring. “I want you to keep it safe for me.”

She shook her head again at him. “Why?”

_Because you’re my soulmate, and half of me is you, and I love-_

“It’s about time it got to be worn by somebody,” he said, pushing down his thoughts. “A ring like that doesn’t deserve to sit around collecting dust.”

And even though he hadn’t said what he’d thought, it was like she could still hear what was going on inside his head, inside his heart. Her fist tightened around the ring, and, just for a moment, Adrien imagined that he could hear her heart returning those feelings back to him.

“I promise I’ll keep it safe,” she said, and she held out her pinky finger to him. “I swear on my thief’s honor.”

Adrien hooked his pinky with hers for the second time that night. “I thought there was no honor among thieves,” he said with a laugh, and her eyes twinkled at him.

“That’s just propaganda. Come on, I thought you were smarter than that, Adrien.” He laughed again and let go of her hands as she climbed out of the window.

“I’ll try to live up to your expectations,” he said, and he could see all of the beauty of the night there in her eyes as she gave him one last playful look.

“You better. Goodnight, Adrien.”

“Goodnight, Ladybug.”

  
  


\---

  
  


Parties weren’t exactly Adrien’s favorite place to go[⁴](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o_hR7lbTYsQ), but this particular party was of the business variety; his father had told him that skipping out on it was the same as spitting in the face of his most valuable business partner, Tsurugi Textiles. So Adrien had put on his best suit - a nice black one with green trimming and gold buttons - and sucked up his desire to stay home and paint, play the piano, or wait for Ladybug.

Not that he was ever sure when she would be coming. Just that she’d been coming so often lately, and he hated thinking about her dropping by the mansion only to find him not there. He wanted to be there, every time she came. Every time she thought about him.

But his father’s business was not something Adrien could say no to, and despite the fact that it had been well over a month since Adrien had met Ladybug, nobody knew that he’d met his soulmate. That was still something that was his.

So Adrien went to the party. He bowed his head to the owner of Tsurugi Textiles - a stern looking blind woman named Tomoe Tsurugi - and given Tsurugi’s daughter, a girl about his age that looked just as stern as her mother, a nod of his head and a smile before excusing himself to the buffet. Absinthe was still being frowned upon, so the table only had glasses of sparkling gold champagne and scarlet colored wine. Adrien decided on the wine.

Over the course of the party, filled with lots of singing hazel-colored string sounds, Adrien hung around the edges of the dancing and the mingling. He did pop in and out of conversations among the city’s elite, just to stop Nathalie from giving him pointed looks from across the ballroom. He turned on the charm, smiling and laughing like the perfect gentleman, like the perfect heir to a growing fashion business empire.

Some ladies and gentleman dressed in their brightest colors, their dresses or suits hanging handsomely from their beautiful forms, came to ask him to dance, but Adrien always declined. He told them perhaps after he finished this glass of wine, or perhaps the next song, or perhaps at the next ball - he wasn’t feeling just himself, and you don’t mind just friendly conversation for now, do you?

But then, near the end of the night, the Tsurugi’s daughter came up to him, and she held her hand, small but strong, out to him. And he couldn’t say no - he heard his father’s voice in the back of his mind. _The Tsurugis are our greatest asset. We will please them however we can tonight._

So he took her hand.

She led him out to the dance floor, and Adrien couldn’t help but notice that she was wearing red. Not the deep, alluring red that Ladybug normally wore. No, this red was brighter, like raspberry jam, like freshly spilled blood. 

Her dress was of the style now - boxy and loose, falling from her shoulders and draping prettily around her chest before being cinched around the hips and flowing gracefully to her ankles. The fabric was edged with gold in some places, like the belt around her waist and the edges of the dress itself. It was pretty, and it was meant to catch eyes. 

As they danced to the creeping sounds of the strings, Adrien found himself unnerved by her silence. It almost seemed like she was studying him, like he was an insect that she had pinned down with her honey-brown colored eyes.

“This is a wonderful party,” he said, breaking the silence between them and giving her a charming smile. “The ballroom, the music, the food - it’s all very pleasing and elegant.”

“The wine was certainly your favorite of all the other pleasing things, though, wasn’t it?” she asked, thin lips quirking up at the corners.

“It was good wine,” Adrien said with a half-shrug and a laugh. “Forgive me if I ever seemed disinterested to your keen eyes.”

“You are forgiven,” she replied, her soft voice filled with her amusement. “Although I don’t blame you very much. Parties are quite a bore, aren’t they?”

“Did my father’s assistant tell you to ask me that?” Adrien asked. “She’s testing me, right? Trying to see if I’ll hold up under pressure?”

Kagami Tsurugi, heir to Tsurugi Textiles, laughed. It seemed to take her by surprise, so it was a startled sort of sound, like she hadn’t been expecting to find Adrien funny. Adrien had to admit that it was a beautiful sort of laugh - hazel colored, like the string instruments.

“No, not at all,” she said, her laugh still alight on her face. “I really do think parties are quite boring.”

“Well, if you’re not Nathalie’s spy, then I have to say I agree with you, Ms.Tsurugi,” Adrien said, and Kagami smiled, shaking her head.

“You can just call me Kagami, Mr. Agreste.”

“Then just Adrien is fine by me, Kagami,” Adrien replied, and she smiled again - a soft, small sort of smile.

“I have to say, I’m extremely glad that you seem to be a nice sort of fellow,” Kagami said, and Adrien raised his eyebrows.

“You expected me to be awful?” he asked, and she snorted, shaking her head.

“Maybe,” she replied, and Adrien made a mock noise of offense. “But not exactly rude, just… not quite so genuine.”

Adrien hummed. “Well, if we’re exchanging what we expected from each other, then I expected you to be perhaps a little cold with no humor for any good jokes,” he replied, and she purposefully stepped out of rhythm with the song, making Adrien stumble. She laughed. “Point taken,” Adrien said.

“When my mother first proposed an arranged marriage, I must say that I was not very happy about it,” she said airily, and Adrien raised an eyebrow. “But since it’s you, then perhaps I might not mind so much.”

Adrien froze. The song ended with the pull of a last note, hanging in the air.

“What?”

Kagami frowned, tilting her head at him. “Don’t you know? My mother and your father are arranging for us to be married, for the business. That’s what this party is for - for them to finish discussing the details.”

An arranged marriage.

Suddenly, all the wine Adrien had drunk was heavy in his stomach.

He staggered away from her. 

“I’m sorry, but I…” The strings were beginning another piece now, but it was far away in Adrien’s ears. He could hardly hear it. “I have to go and- and find some air, if you’ll excuse me.”

He didn’t wait for a response, walking to the nearest set of doors and pushing through them. They led outside, to the courtyard, and Adrien wove past the couples that had come out to find some privacy and went to a bench to sit, falling onto it.

An arranged marriage.

The air was hot and cloying around him - thick through his nose and throat as he attempted to breathe regularly. 

An _arranged marriage._

His head was in his hands[⁵](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ikamkNXicPw), and he hardly registered the light footsteps crunching through the gravel toward him until Kagami had sat down beside him. He could tell it was her - he could see her bright red dress with the gold edges in the corner of his eye.

“My mother told me three weeks ago,” she said quietly, with her honey-brown voice. “I thought you knew.”

Three weeks.

Adrien stared down at his shoes and the pink gravel beneath them, and he wondered what he was supposed to say. How he was supposed to react. When his father was supposed to tell him.

“I understand,” Kagami continued softly, “if you do not want to marry me. I did not want to marry you, not at first.” She paused, placing her small hand on his shoulder. He could feel the heat of it seeping through his suit jacket. “But I came to realize that it would be best for the company - and not just my mother’s, but your father’s as well. And tonight, I thought…” She trailed off, letting out a small sigh. “I thought perhaps it might not be an unhappy union.”

He finally looked up at her, and he could see, there on her expression, that she meant every word she said.

And maybe, if he hadn’t already-

She was pretty, beautiful even. She had a small, delicate sort of face. Her hair was cut stylishly, cropped by her neck in a way that made the smooth lines of her face look sharp. The turn of her nose was cute, and she had a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and her cheeks that was quite charming. 

But.

“I have a soulmate,” Adrien said, his voice just barely above a whisper, and her eyes widened.

“What?” She took her hand off of him.

Adrien ran a hand through his hair, letting out a shaky sound that fell just short of a laugh. “I’ve always seen in grays, so it was pretty obvious when I was a kid. My father knows that I have a soulmate, and he still…”

“You haven’t met them yet?” she asked, and Adrien looked at her, feeling miserable and vulnerable and just-

“I have,” he said, and Kagami’s expression melted into something between pity and sympathy. “And you’re the only person who knows.”

“I’m sorry, Adrien,” she said, and she placed her hand on his shoulder once again. He replaced his head in his hands.

“I’m sorry, too.”

  
  


\---

  
  


Adrien stared at the ceiling.[⁶](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XHbGEuu9BZI) It wasn’t his ceiling, the one he normally stared at - it was the ceiling of a guest bedroom at the Tsurugi household. After a few minutes of amiable enough silence between him and Kagami, Nathalie had found them and informed Adrien that they were to stay the night due to the fact that his father still needed to discuss some things with Kagami’s mother. Kagami had looked over at him, expression pained, but Adrien had simply nodded. He felt sick to his stomach, but he didn’t say anything more than to ask for directions to the room he would be staying in.

And now the ball was over, had been over for a few hours, and he couldn’t sleep.

How could he sleep?

Letting out a sigh, Adrien stood up, stretching out his limbs and deciding to go for a walk around the mansion to clear his head and perhaps tire himself out. Not that he expected either of those things to actually happen, but it was worth a try.

As he walked out of the room, feet clad in borrowed slippers, he looked out the windows. The sky was cloudy tonight - a navy blue that was all encompassing, the deep gray of the clouds mixing into the dark shade without any effort. The stars were far away now.

_An arranged marriage,_ Adrien found himself thinking for perhaps the millionth time that night.

Despite the fact that Nathalie had come to talk to him while he’d been sitting with Kagami and she surely knew about his father’s plans, she still hadn’t given anything away. He thought about how his father had signed Adrien’s life away this very night and hadn’t even given Adrien the dignity of knowing.

And he thought about Ladybug.

She was his soulmate. He was as sure of it as he could be about anything - as sure of it as he was sure that he was himself, that he was alive. And yet.

And yet she wouldn’t talk about it, wouldn’t even say the word _soulmate,_ wouldn’t even admit that her world had been just as gray as his before she met him. Yes, they’d gotten undeniably closer in the weeks she’d been visiting him, but there was still a wall between them - a wall made of scarlet colored clothes and a scarlet colored name.

He couldn’t stand it - how she shied away from being known by him. He couldn’t stand it even as he understood it.

She was a thief, she’d stolen from his family, stolen from countless other rich families. But surely she should know that he would never betray her, not for the expensive trinkets he nor his father had ever cared about, not for anything. 

All he wanted was to love her, to be with her, to _know her name_ at the very least. 

But she wouldn’t let him.

And he had to respect that. He had no choice - he knew he loved her. He wouldn’t dare cross any boundaries that she had. He just wished she understood the depths of his emotions for her, but she wouldn’t even let him confess his feelings. Every time he was ready to, she would seem to understand what he was about to say, and she would run. Turn her face away. Change the topic.

She didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to face it.

And he understood that, sort of. 

But now he was in an arranged marriage.

And he couldn’t help but think - _what now?_

Marrying Kagami was what his father wanted him to do, even if he hadn’t told Adrien so himself yet. And having concrete ties between the Agreste fashion industry and the Tsurugi Textiles stronghold would no doubt be the business opportunity others would envy for years to come. By all means, it seemed like the right thing to do.

Except.

Except for the fact that Adrien had a soulmate that he had already met without telling a single soul until months after the fact. Except for the fact that he loved his soulmate, felt complete with her, knew he would no doubt be happy for the rest of his life if he could just hear her laugh every day. Except for the fact that he didn’t even know his soulmate’s real name.

Ladybug had no qualms about pushing him away. He wondered if, when he told her about the arranged marriage, she would simply accept it. If she would have no qualms about disappearing forever from his life. 

He found himself in the middle of a halfway - probably on the east wing of the house - and he stopped walking, letting out a long breath. He went over to the windows and looked out onto the view of the city from the window. 

Only the silhouettes of the buildings could be visible this late at night, and all of the lovely buildings that the city was made of looked to be merged into one giant, black wall. He thought about what Ladybug had said recently, about feeling trapped.

There was a sound behind him, and Adrien whirled around, finding himself face to face with Ladybug herself.

She froze when she saw him, her gloved hand still resting on the handle of the door she had just come out of - a study of some sort. She was wearing her dark red coat, and he could see her satchel bulging at her hip. Filled with things from this mansion.

“Adrien,” she said, her eyes wide. She took her hand off the doorknob, shifting her body so that her satchel was mostly hidden behind her, but it was too late. Adrien had already seen, and she knew it. “What are you doing here?”

“What am _I_ doing here?”[⁷](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uz8wNrVLG5Q) Adrien repeated, feeling anger spark low in his gut. “I was invited here by the Tsurugi family. And what exactly are _you_ doing here?” He wished he didn’t sound so accusatory, but he was so frustrated with everything. Seeing her here, with her bag full of stolen goods, at a time when he wasn’t thinking quite clearly was only fuel to the fire.

She narrowed her eyes at him, sticking her chin up. “I think you know what.”

“You’re stealing,” he said, and he shouldn’t be so angry, not when he’d caught her doing the same thing at his own home only just a few months ago, but it was different here. In this place full of things that might matter to someone else.

“You’ve known from the start what I do, Adrien,” Ladybug said, furrowing her eyebrows. “You shouldn’t be so surprised.”

She was right, of course. But Adrien hated that. 

“Have you been doing this all this time? Every time you visit, have you been stealing from my father again, going off to other houses and stealing there, too? All while playing me for a fool?” he asked, and her eyebrows furrowed even further. 

“I haven’t stolen any more from you or your father,” she said calmly, voice even and smooth. “But yes, I have still been going out to other wealthy houses.” She seemed to sense that he was only lashing out at her because of something else, and he felt more frustration crawl up into his throat. 

“God, how much do you have to take?” he asked, struggling to keep his voice down despite his temper. “How much do you have to take until you’re satisfied? Until you have enough money, enough jewels, enough gold until you stop sneaking around, until you just-”

“I’ll never be satisfied,” Ladybug interrupted, a tinge of red creeping into her voice, and he could tell he’d struck some sort of nerve.

“But you’ve said that your family is well off, so _why-”_

“This isn’t about my family!” she said, shaking her hand and throwing a hand to the side. “Do you know how I haven’t been caught? It’s because I don’t _keep_ what I take. I don’t need it.”

_“Oh,”_ Adrien said with an awful sort of laugh, and he hated that he was feeling some sort of satisfaction from getting a rise out of her. Like if he pressed her buttons enough, then he would get some sort of release from all the anger and frustration inside of him. “I see now. You’re just a risk-taker. Some thief that likes to get her blood pumping by evading the most well-paid guards in the country, who likes taking well-earned gold just for the-”

_“Well-earned?”_ Ladybug hissed, voice low and dangerous. “God, you’re either brainwashed to all hell, or you actively sit complacent in the evils of your status.” He could hear it, the anger painted through her words, laced through each syllable. “Have you ever stepped foot out of that mansion of yours and actually taken a good hard look at the city around you?”

He remained silent, glaring at her. 

“There are people,” she continued, voice burning red, “maybe not even fifty feet from where we stand, who are _starving._ There are people who have families and cannot support them, there are people who have jobs and don’t get paid. There are people who work for _your father_ and don’t know if they are going to make their next rent, if they are going to make it to the end of the week, if they are going to make it to the end of the _day.”_ She gestured to their surroundings, letting out a poisonous laugh. “And you and your people sit around in these palaces, blissfully ignorant of the men, women, and children who are begging for their lives to be saved. And you steal from them. With each new cent you _earn,_ you steal a minute, an hour, a _decade_ from the life of another human being.”

Adrien leaned against the window behind him, feeling his anger dissipate, replaced with a sunken feeling, deep in his chest. “That can’t… That can’t be true.”

Ladybug’s eyes were hard on him. “It is.”

And he knew she was telling the truth.

“So, what do you do? Steal from the rich, give to the poor?”

“I’m only taking back what’s already been stolen,” she replied, and Adrien let out a puff of air from his nose. Something that could’ve been a laugh. “And I’ve never kept a single thing that I’ve taken.” She tilted her head to the side, thinking for a moment. “Except…” She trailed off, reaching below the collar of her blouse and pulling out a leather cord that was tied around her neck.

There, dangling in the center of the cord, was his mother’s ring.

Adrien felt himself soften.

“That doesn’t count,” he said. “I gave that to you.”

He couldn’t see her lips, just like always, but he could see her small smile glimmering in her blue eyes. He sighed, running his hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry for accusing you of…” He trailed off.

“Being a thief?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. “I still am one, you know.”

“Not that,” Adrien said, shaking his head. “For being a bad person. I’ve known, in my heart, since the beginning that you weren’t. And now that I know why you steal, I know in my head that you aren’t.” He paused, looking down at the floor. “Between the two of us, I’m probably the bad person here.”

“Yeah, probably,” she replied flippantly, moving to stand next to him by the window. He snorted out a laugh, and she shot him a glittering look.

“I will work to be better, though,” he said, turning with her to look out of the window at the grounds below and the dark sky above. “My mother worked often in charity when she was alive, and if… if my father really is going against everything my mother believed in by allowing his employees to suffer, then I’d rather continue my mother’s legacy than be complacent in my father’s.”

Ladybug hummed. “That’s a start.”

They were quiet for a moment, and Adrien stared out at the wall of black buildings. He felt the heavy feeling return to his stomach, and he turned to look over at Ladybug. “I have something to tell you,” he said, and her eyes turned to look at him, searching.

“Is it what caused you to be so angry?” she asked, and Adrien felt a wry smile pull at his lips as he looked down at the ground below them.

“Yeah, it is, actually.”

“Am I going to like to hear it?” she asked, and Adrien took a deep breath. He looked over at her and met her eyes, studying her.

He shook his head, swallowing thickly. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

She took a deep breath. “Okay. What is it?”

“My father,” he started, stopping and running a hand through his hair. He looked away from her. “My father has arranged for me to be married.”

He was staring up at the dark sky above. No stars in sight. The silence was thick between them.

“To who?” she finally asked, and her words sounded so- 

They sounded so _gray._

“Kagami Tsurugi, heir to Tsurugi Textiles.”

Ladybug nodded slowly.

Adrien looked over at her.

She was staring up at the sky, her eyes - normally the color of a clear summer’s day - were full of storms, full of darkness. Like she had stolen the night sky and all the gray clouds in it and condensed it to fit inside of her.

“I wish you a happy marriage,” she said quietly, her gray words edged in a deep blue. “And a successful business.” She turned away from him.

And Adrien’s fear had come true. She was walking away, _she was walking away._

“Wait,” Adrien said, catching hold of her wrist. “That’s it? You’re just going to wish me a happy marriage and _leave?”_

She stopped walking, but she didn’t turn back to him. Her shoulders were stiff by her ears. “Yes.”

“You don’t- you don’t want to even _talk_ about it?” he asked, and he could feel it - he could feel his heart breaking.

“What is there to talk about?” she asked, still not looking at him. “You’re going to get married. You’re going to do as your father says. You’re going to run the business, and you’re going to have a happy life. That’s all there is to it.”

“No,” Adrien snapped. “That’s _not_ all there is to it. Because you and I-” He broke off, trying to find the right words. “You and I-”

“There is no _you and I,”_ Ladybug said, finally whirling around to face him, and there was- there was a scarlet fire raging in her eyes, just behind the gentle blue. “There is nothing between us, nothing at all.”

“How can you say that?” Adrien asked, feeling hot tears well up behind his eyes. “How can you stand here and still deny, after all this time, that we’re soulmates?”

And there it was, that word that she hated. 

“Because we’re _not,_ Adrien,” she hissed, her hands clenching into fists. “We never have been. We can’t be.”

“Well, which is it, then?” Adrien asked, shaking his head.

“What?”

“We’re not, we never were, or we can’t?”

She looked away from him. “It doesn’t matter.”

“But it _does,”_ he said, reaching his hands out for her. She pulled away from his touch, and he let her, allowing his words to reach out to her instead. “If you believe that we’re not or we never have been soulmates, then that means that you don’t feel the way I do. But if _we can’t be_ soulmates, then you’re telling me that you feel it - all of it, all of the colors and the buzzing and the _wholeness -_ but for some reason, you won’t accept it. It _matters,_ Ladybug, so which is it?”

She looked at him, her eyebrows twisted together in what looked like anguish, her head shaking slowly from side to side. And he knew which one it was. And she knew that he knew.

_“Why?”_ Adrien asked, and this time, when he reached for her, she let him take her hands in his, let him rub his thumbs on her knuckles. “I don’t understand - I don’t- I don’t _get it._ Why don’t you want me to be my soulmate?”

She shook her head, looking down at their hands. They fit together. Like puzzle pieces. Like two halves of a whole.

“I…” He trailed off, blinking hard. “I want to be your soulmate, Ladybug,” he said quietly, and he raised her hands up to his lips, pressing a kiss through her gloves on each one of her hands. “And I want you to be my soulmate.” He paused, eyes catching on hers, his lips still brushing against the worn material of her gloves. “I love you, Ladybug. I love you.”

She let out something that sounded like a sob, and she pulled her hands away out of his grasp, backing away from him. She turned to the nearest window and flung it open, beginning to climb out of it.

“Ladybug, please-”

“Just get married, Adrien,” she said, her voice the anguished gray of a tumultuous sea. Her eyes caught him one last time, holding him still. Even now, with the tears in her eyes and not a speck of light in the sky, her eyes still held all of the stars. “Just get married, and forget about me.”

He watched her drop down to the ground and run across the Tsurugi land, a simple black silhouette moving farther away from him. 

She didn’t look back. Not even once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello everyone! i hope you enjoyed this chapter and are looking forward to the final (and longest) chapter next week!!
> 
> you may have noticed throughout this chapter little numbers with links on them and i am very happy to tell you that, my dear friends, was the music map that i hinted at last chapter!! these were the musical pieces that i imagined to be playing at that moment/wrote the scene to/drew inspiration from. you are completely free to, like, have those playing in the background as you read (and maybe replay them if they're too short for the scene) and in fact that would be so dope if you did that already/plan to reread and do that like literally that's so cool. what the heck.
> 
> you might also notice that there is a song on the music map used twice. that's on purpose!! a song or two from this chapter might appear next chapter!!! we'll just have to find out!!!
> 
> music map:  
> 1\. [Saltare (Somewhere at the Baltic Sea)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uz8wNrVLG5Q) by Dirk Maassen  
> 2\. [Starry Night](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XVUY8hoV65I) by Remo Anzovino  
> 3\. [The Rose](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jdip2gPN5j4) by piano cover by David Shultz  
> 4\. [Concerto for Viola & Strings 'Elegia': II](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o_hR7lbTYsQ) performed by Hikaru Hayashi, Yuri Bashmet, Roman Balashov, and Moscow Soloists  
> 5\. [Midare](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ikamkNXicPw) performed by Izumi-kai Original Instrument Group  
> 6\. [Improv #10 - One Last Thought]() by The Daydream Club  
> 7\. [Saltare (Somewhere at the Baltic Sea)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uz8wNrVLG5Q) by Dirk Maassen
> 
> thank you so much for reading<3<3<3


	3. A Brilliant and Lovely Red Through his Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I haven’t seen her in a while. I don’t think I’ll ever see her again.”
> 
> “But you still love her.”
> 
> “Yeah,” Adrien said quietly, “I still love her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> read the end notes for details on the music map!
> 
> enjoy :)

Adrien ran his paintbrush, dipped in a violent, painful red, along the canvas[¹](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rf46Oaamy1w), slashing a wound through the navy blue sky he’d been painting. He’d been painting a night landscape - visions of sparkling white stars sprinkled across deep blues and purples and blacks, but when he’d sat back to examine his work, it had just looked too... peaceful.

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately,” Kagami observed from where she was sitting next to him. She had an apron neatly tied around her to save her from the paint, and her posture was absolutely perfect as she painted the fruit bowl in front of her with the utmost realism.

He, on the other hand, had stopped wearing aprons almost three months ago. He mostly didn’t sit at easels anymore either, but since Kagami was over and they were in the parlor rather than in his room, he figured he should try to look a little civilized. He straightened his back, lowering his paintbrush and looking over at her. “What do you mean?”

“When we paint,” Kagami said, her honey eyes looking over his painting before flicking back to her own with a critical eye. Her voice was smooth and even. “You paint something beautiful, and then you take a paintbrush to it like a knife.”

Snorting, he dipped his paintbrush into a more of the red, overloading it with the paint and then pressing hard along the gash he’d already made. “If you don’t like my paintings, you can just say so,” he said, watching the excess red paint dribble down over his night sky like blood. “I can take it. I’m a big boy.”

“I don’t hate your paintings,” Kagami replied, squinting at the fruit bowl and then fixing the shading on the banana. “I think they’re quite beautiful, in fact.”

“So what are you saying?” Adrien asked, tilting his head at the wound of red paint. He picked up a different brush and mixed the red and the navy blue he’d used for the sky, creating a lovely purple shade. He began to blend the edges of the red into the sky, like it had actually opened up there among the stars.

“I’m only saying that I’ve noticed you do it nearly every time we paint together,” Kagami said, her shoulders lifting halfway in a nonchalant shrug. “It was simply an observation.”

Right. If there was one thing Adrien had learned since he and Kagami’s engagement went public and they’d begun spending more and more time together, it was that when Kagami made an observation out loud about something, it usually meant she thought it meant something. She wouldn’t talk about it straight out because she and Adrien liked keeping their boundaries very clear, but she would say her observations, and she would wait for Adrien to come to her.

He liked that about her. He liked that he had someone to talk to about what was one his mind, someone who wouldn’t push him, and someone who didn’t mind when he let go of his public persona for a while. It was nice.

“You want to hear an observation of mine?” he asked, and she hummed. He leaned over, painting a purple smiley face on her apron. “You think too much.”

She looked down at the smiley face, and he could tell that she was fighting back a smile. 

“That was very childish,” she said.

“You’re no fun.”

She flicked her paintbrush at him, splattering him with banana-shading color. Adrien laughed.

“Now who’s the childish one?” he asked, and she made a face at him.

“Still you.”

  
  


\---

  
  


The day was hot[²](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ogGiYujhCb0), the sun blazing down on him, and Adrien sighed, wiping his face with the back of his arm. He’d been working with the community outreach and charity organization run by a quaint little bakery that sat just between the nice and seedy parts of the city for a few weeks now, and he liked it, really. He loved it immensely, and he enjoyed seeing more of the city and the people that lived in it.

But it really was a hot day, and Adrien was sweating more than he could ever remember in his whole life.

“You’ve been hauling those crates of supplies for a while now,” Sabine Dupain-Cheng, co-owner of the bakery said, coming up behind him and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Tom can finish the rest later. How about you come inside for a glass of water and whatever pastry you like?”

“Oh, there’s only a few more,  _ Madame.  _ If your husband and I do the rest now together, we’ll have it all inside in no time,” he said, standing up straight and flashing Mrs. Dupain-Cheng a smile.

She looked between him and Tom, a look of bemused exasperation on her face. “Well, fine then. But do come in for a bit of rest, okay?”

“I promise,  _ Madame,”  _ he said, bowing to her, and she laughed, shaking her head and returning to the inside of the bakery.

“You know she won’t mind too much if you just call her Sabine,” Tom said, holding three crates with ease in his large, beefy arms as he walked past Adrien. Adrien opened up the door for him so that he could carry the supplies inside.

“Yeah, I know,” Adrien said with a shrug, and he went back to the big cart almost empty of crates. “It doesn’t hurt to be respectful, though.”

“You and all your manners,” Tom said, laughing as he climbed up onto the cart and handed a crate down to Adrien.

Adrien grinned.

He liked the Dupain-Chengs. Over the weeks that he’d been working with them in putting together care packages for the people in need, he’d gotten pretty close with them - mostly because they were almost overbearingly kind. They took Adrien in like he was one of their own on that first day, welcoming him with gracious smiles and open arms even though he’d been scared out of his mind that they’d hate him for being part of a family that caused the problems they were trying to fix.

But they accepted him as he was, and Adrien loved that.

He and Tom finished taking in the supplies, and then they went into the kitchen to join Sabine and take up her offer of a glass of water and a pastry. As they came in, Tom leaned down and gave Sabine and sweet kiss on the temple, and Adrien couldn’t help but smile.

Marinette, their daughter, was on the other side of the kitchen, dutifully putting together sandwiches for the care packages.

Whereas Tom and Sabine had welcomed Adrien’s offer of help and funds whenever he was able to persuade his father to ease up on his coin purse, Marinette hadn’t ever really clicked with him in that same way. He wasn’t sure why, but she’d always avoided him, keeping her interactions with him as short as they could possibly be.

He was afraid she hated him. For what business his name was a part of, for his past ignorance.

“Adrien, do you have a preference for what pastry you’d like?” Sabine asked, and at the call of his name, he saw Marinette visibly stiffen. But she continued with her work, keeping her back resolutely to Adrien.

“Everything you bake is frankly delightful,” Adrien replied, looking back to Sabine and smiling at her. “Surprise me.”

Sabine shook her head, muttering under her breath something that sounded a little bit like “sweet handsome boy” and went into the front display area to pick something out.

Tom wiped his face off with a dishcloth and then tossed the cloth over to Adrien. He caught it, nodding to Tom in thanks before wiping himself off as well. He poured them both a glass of water, dropping in a block of ice in each, and they leaned against the counter for a moment, cooling off.

“You heading home soon?” Tom asked, and Adrien shook his head, running the cool glass over his hot forehead. It was odd - almost every time he stopped by the Dupain-Cheng bakery, there was always this buzz, this  _ itch  _ underneath his skin. It was like he couldn’t settle down.

“No. I told my father not to expect me back until late,” he replied, and Tom nodded. It was only partly true. He told  _ Nathalie  _ to tell his father not to expect him home until late. His father didn’t exactly approve of his recent charity work - which wasn’t cool, in Adrien’s opinion - so he’d stopped asking his permission to go out and do it. After the first week, his father seemed to realize this and stopped telling him not to go, only giving him disapproving looks from across their twenty-foot long dining table.

And that was something Adrien had dealt with for a long time, so it was fine. But he didn’t really like having dinner with his father much, anyway, so he’d been staying out a lot longer on his days out. 

“Well,” Tom said, slapping a hand on Adrien’s shoulder. Adrien only just managed to keep his footing. “We can always use some extra help around here,” he said, and he smiled at Adrien in such a fatherly and glittering smile that Adrien felt his whole chest squeeze.

He had a feeling Tom and Sabine knew he didn’t like to be at home much. Which just made their loving smiles and casual parental gestures mean all the more.

Sabine returned, handing Adrien a  _ pain au chocolat  _ wrapped neatly in a napkin and patting his cheek before returning to washing pans and cake molds in the sink.

“I don’t get one?” Tom asked, and Sabine waved her hand.

“Get one yourself,” she called back at him, her pale blue eyes sparkling. “And get a move on decorating the rest of that cake for the Lahiffe family.”

“Alright, alright,” Tom said, finishing off his glass of water and going over to the sink to wash his hands. While there, he nudged himself into Sabine’s space, big frame looming over his wife as she giggled up at him. Adrien smiled, taking a bite out of the pastry. It was, in fact, delicious.

He’d gotten halfway through the pastry before realizing that he was the only one in the kitchen not doing work. He quickly finished the rest of the pastry and went to wash his hands before stepping over to Marinette. She was working on charity stuff, and that was what Adrien was here to help with, after all.

Not that he’d mind helping Tom or Sabine with bakery stuff, but he was fairly certain he would be more hurt than help in that department. 

He finished tying an apron around his waist, looking over at Marinette, who seemed determined not to meet his gaze. “What can I do?” Adrien asked her, and she stared down at the sandwich she was making with laser focus, perfectly folding the meat into even lines and carefully positioning the cheese on top of it.

“Nothing,” she said to the sandwich. “Thank you.”

Adrien tapped his fingertips on the counter. “I can hand you the meat and cheese,” he offered.

“I am perfectly capable of doing that myself,” she replied, and despite the fact that the words themselves were cold, she said them in such a way that warmed them up. Like even though she really didn’t want to work beside him, she still didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

“I can make sandwiches with you,” he tried, watching her place the sandwich she’d just made on a neat pile of other already-made sandwiches and move on to the next.

“I’m almost finished,” she said, and there was a lock of hair hanging down over her face. She looked up from the sandwich to it before looking back down. “I am alright with finishing on my own.” She blew a breath at the hair to try and get it out of her face. It rode her breath, and then fell back down into her face. She let out a small sigh, finishing the sandwich and moving onto the next.

“Here,” Adrien said, and he carefully reached over, tucking the lock of hair behind her ear. She pulled away from his touch, her eyes finally meeting his. They were blue, bright blue. And they were familiar.

There was that itch again.

She tore her eyes away from him. “You can’t help until you wash your hands again,” she said to the countertop.

“Does that mean you’ll let me help?” Adrien asked, and he took her silence as a yes. He went back to the sink, washing his hands beside Sabine, who gave him an encouraging smile. Returning to Marinette’s side, he wiped his damp hands on his apron. “So what can I do?”

Marinette pushed a roll of butcher paper over to him. “Wrap up the finished sandwiches,” she said, and so that was what he did.

Once she finished making the last of the sandwiches, finishing wrapping them up was quick work. And when that was done, they moved into placing the sandwiches into the waiting care packages, working silently side by side and in tandem.

Adrien thought, vaguely, that he and Marinette would be good friends. If she ever decided to talk to him.

He passed her the last package of dried meats that had been in the extra supply crates that he and Tom had brought in earlier, and she dropped it in the last care package, tying the cloth tight around the sandwiches, hygiene products, and other various items. She sat back on her heels, pushing her hair back from her face and tilting her head to the side.

“Thank you for helping me,” she said softly, mostly directed at the package beneath her. “That went faster than it would’ve if I had done it alone.”

“It’s no problem,” Adrien said, picking up the care package and going to stack it with all the others. He stepped back, letting out a low whistle as he admired their work. “There’s enough here to feed an entire neighborhood.”

“That’s kind of the point,” she said, and there was something soft in her voice, like she was smiling. And he wanted to look back, wanted to see her smile, but he knew that if he did, she’d whip her eyes away from him and wipe the smile off of her face. So he kept his back to her, and he smiled, too.

“When are you going to deliver them out?” he asked, fixing the tie on one of the packages. He still kept his back to her, hoping that if he didn’t try to push eye contact, she would feel more comfortable around him.

“Volunteers are coming tomorrow to help pass them out,” she said, and he nodded.

“Any room for one more volunteer?” he asked. There was a pause.

“We never turn away volunteers,” she said, and, really, Marinette seemed to be the master of saying polite things with impolite intentions but still managing to sound polite. It was a wonderfully charming talent, even if it was being used at Adrien’s expense, and Adrien couldn’t help but laugh. It wasn’t even a bitter laugh.

“But you want to turn me away,” he said, and he finally turned around to look at her. Their eyes caught for a moment, and shiver ran down his spine.

“That’s not what I said,” she said, flicking her eyes away.

“It’s what you meant,” he replied, and her lips pursed. Adrien grinned.

“You are welcome to come tomorrow,” she said at his left shoe, burning holes nearly through his toes with the intensity of her glare. “We would love extra help.”

“Even if it is from me,” he finished, and her nose twitched, the corners of her lips pulling down. “Come now, Ms. Dupain-Cheng,” he said, sitting down in front of the care packages so that they were on the same level. “I already know you don’t care for me very much, and I really won’t mind if you throw a few insults my way. That’s a promise.”

“I’m not going to insult you,” she said, and she still wasn’t looking at him, but she was definitely rolling her eyes. “And you don’t have to butter me up like you do with my mom.”

“I am doing no such thing with either you  _ or  _ your mother,” Adrien scoffed, and then paused. “What do you imagine someone eavesdropping would think of that statement?” he asked, and a very cute and very surprised snort burst from Marinette’s mouth.

His eyes widened.

She covered the rest of her laugh with her hand, turning her face away. “You are absolutely awful,” she said, but he could hear it - the baby blue sound of her smile creeping into her voice.

“Oh, and you had  _ just  _ said that you wouldn’t insult me,” Adrien said, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. “Really, Ms. Dupain-Cheng, where’s your former resolve?”

“And where’s your insistence that you wouldn’t mind if I threw an insult your way?” she asked, shaking her head and standing up. 

“It’s the principle of the matter,” Adrien replied, and she scoffed, wiping her hands on her apron.

“It was hardly an insult.”

“Then was it a compliment?” he asked, raising his eyebrows and giving her a smile.

She turned back to him, and when she looked at him, there was a sadness that Adrien couldn’t quite pinpoint hiding behind the bright blue, even as her lips pulled up into a smile. “You’re quite cheeky for an engaged man, aren’t you, Mr. Agreste?”

And.

Well.

She left the room before Adrien could say anything in reply.

Adrien supposed that was for the best.

It’s not like- it’s not like he’d  _ forgotten,  _ per se. It was just that being around Marinette, being in the bakery with the Dupain-Chengs and preparing charity work, made him lose himself a little bit. Take off all the responsibilities and burdens from his shoulders, just for a little while so that he could help others with a smile on his face. 

It was like he was two different people. Like the Adrien Agreste that he was supposed to be at the mansion and at the parties and even with Kagami, someone who he trusted and valued as a friend, was entirely different from the Adrien he let himself be when he was out helping the community with the Dupain-Chengs. When he was here, something deep inside of himself pushed Kagami and the whole arranged marriage business off to the side.

And he liked it.

Not having to think about Kagami. About…

“Marinette did say you two finished the packages,” Sabine said, breaking into Adrien’s spiralling mental state, “but seeing it done so early is wonderful!”

Adrien gave her something that he was sure was passable as a pleasant enough smile.

Something in Sabine’s expression turned sympathetic, and she reached out a hand to Adrien, pulling him up off the floor with a deceptively strong grip. “Marinette left just now to meet up with her friend and discuss tomorrow’s plan,” she said, patting his shoulder.

“She’s very dedicated,” Adrien said, trying to put some easy-going strength in his voice. He was pretty sure Sabine was convinced that there was something more happening between him and Marinette despite them hardly ever talking, and seeing him sitting alone in a back room of the bakery looking probably very miserable after Marinette had just left was probably not helping the case. “She’s the kind of person that this community needs, that this whole city needs.” He tried to convey to Sabine with a smile that said he was fine.

Sabine tilted her head at him. And then she smiled back. Adrien let out a breath of relief. 

“Yes, this whole charity was Marinette’s idea,” she said, hooking her arm with Adrien’s and walking them back to the kitchen. “Tom and I want to help her, of course, and we do - but there’s only so much we can do because we still have to keep the bakery up and running.” She paused as they entered the kitchen, letting go of Adrien to go fetch him a new apron. “It’s really such a miracle that she’s managed to get so many donations to her cause. Or maybe not,” she said, giving Adrien a wink as she traded the apron in her hands with the apron Adrien had worn before. “She is a force to be reckoned with, after all.”

“That is true,” he said with a laugh, taking the other apron with only mild confusion. He looked over at Tom, and Tom gestured for him to wash his hands before joining him by the counter, where he was throwing some ingredients into a bowl.

“It’s always nice to have a fresh apron before making bread,” Tom explained, and Adrien raised his eyebrows, wiping off his hands on his fresh apron.

“I’m going to be making bread?” he asked as Tom began to mix together the ingredients in the bowl.

“I’ll be out in the front,” Sabine said, planting a kiss on Tom’s cheek and giving Adrien a little wave before disappearing into the front part of the bakery.

“Yes, you are,” he said, and he picked up a mass of beige, sticky-looking dough from the bowl before plopping it down on the floured countertop. “Kneading it, at least.”

Adrien blinked. And then he grinned. “Alright,” he said, and he promptly began kneading the dough.

  
  


\---

  
  


Night had already fallen[³](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MGTIx68sjGc) by the time Adrien reached the gates of the Tsurugi estate. After helping Tom bake a wonky-looking loaf of bread (that Tom insisted was perfect) and having dinner with Tom and Sabine, Adrien had left the Dupain-Cheng bakery with a light heart. Marinette hadn’t come back while he was still there, though. He thought that perhaps that might’ve been on purpose.

Regardless, there was something he needed to do. And he only felt strong enough to do it now, when there was a pleasing ache in his arms and a lightness in his chest. He wasn’t sure before, but he was sure now.

The butler instructed him to wait in the parlor, so Adrien did, although he didn’t sit down. He stood, looking out of the window, up into the sky.

“Pretty sky tonight,” Kagami said, and Adrien felt himself smile.

“Yes,” he said, his eyes trailing over the stars twinkling down at him. “Beautiful.”

“Care for a walk?” she asked, holding out her arm, and Adrien turned, giving her an elaborate bow before taking her arm.

“Sounds wonderful,” he replied, and they left through the front door, walking out into the gentle heat of the night.

“I’m assuming you have a reason you came here other than for a late night walk,” Kagami said as they walked along the path that circled her house.

“You’re assuming correct,” Adrien said, nodding his head. They were walking outside of the ballroom now, and he guided her toward the bench they’d sat at the night they’d met.

They sat down, and Kagami folded her hands in her lap, tracing a line in the gravel with the toe of her slipper. Adrien leaned back, turning his face up to the sky.

“I needed to tell you,” Adrien said, closing his eyes and letting the warm summer breeze trail across his face. “I really do enjoy your company, and your friendship has become something that I value very much.”

“But you aren’t going to marry me,” Kagami said, and there was no sadness in the hazel tones of her voice. Only certainty.

Adrien opened his eyes, looking over at her. The corners of his lips turned up into a smile, and he felt, for the first time in many weeks, at peace. “No, Kagami. I am not going to marry you.”

Kagami studied his face for a moment, and then she sighed, letting out a small laugh. “I expected as much,” she said, and she leaned her head on his shoulder. They both looked up at the sky, watching the stars burn. “Since the day I met you, in fact.”

“You always have been quicker than me, haven’t you?” Adrien asked. Kagami took his hand, giving it a squeeze.

“Yes, and I always will be,” she replied, and he laughed. She looked down at their hands, smiling softly. “I have always done just as my mother has asked of me,” she said, moving her thumb across his knuckles, “and I suspect you have done the same with your father. But when you told me that night that you have a soulmate, I just knew…” She shook her head, letting out a small laugh. “You’re a romantic at heart, Adrien. That has always been apparent to me.”

“Maybe I am,” Adrien said softly, giving her hand a squeeze in return. He let out a sigh, staring up at the stars and wondering. “But you know I haven’t seen my soulmate in quite a while. I don’t even know if I’ll ever see her again.”

“So you’ve said,” Kagami said, and she said it in that way that told Adrien she didn’t believe him - not about not having seen his soulmate, just that they wouldn’t meet again. Any time they’ve broached the topic, Adrien had said the same thing, and she would always shake her head. She believed in destiny, in fate, in star-crossed.

“This - me breaking off the engagement, that is - isn’t necessarily about her. About having a soulmate.” He said, and he felt her nod.

“I know that.”

“I just… I want to be clear now that I am my own person. That what I want matters.”

“And you’ll tell your father that just fine,” Kagami said, and Adrien breathed out a sigh.

“I hope so.” He paused, looking down at her. “What will you tell your mother?”

“That you broke my heart,” Kagami replied matter-of-factly, and Adrien leaned away from her, raising an eyebrow. She laughed. “Just kidding.”

“Oh, thank God.”

The laughter was still there in her honeyed eyes when she looked at him. “I’ll just tell her the truth. That we both decided that we didn’t want to get married. That I don’t really ever want to get married.”

Adrien nodded. “I can’t imagine you as a wife,” he said, and she laughed again.

“Neither can I.” She bumped her shoulder with his. “You’ll make a great wife, though.”

“I  _ did  _ make bread today,” Adrien mused.

“See? Already on your way there.”

They laughed and sat together for a while longer. And Adrien knew, somewhere in the back of his heart, that they’d always be friends.

  
  


\---

  
  


Adrien’s arms were extremely sore[⁴](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gArIvTJdrEc) \- he now understood why Tom was so built after a lifetime of owning a bakery and kneading bread every morning. And carrying a crate full of care packages through several neighborhoods was not helping the matter, per se, but it did help that Marinette always stopped to talk a little with the people they were dropping off the packages to. It always gave him a little time to rest his arms a bit.

He’d met up with the volunteers early that day, and they’d split into pairs to deliver the packages. Marinette’s friend, a journalist for the Parisian Times named Alya, had been the one to divide up the groups. When she had pushed Marinette toward Adrien, Adrien didn’t miss the glare Marinette shot in Alya’s direction.

When he’d tried to talk with Alya about perhaps having a different partner for Marinette’s benefit, she’d given him a pat on the shoulder and said with a friendly smile, “absolutely not.” She’d also asked to meet up later in the evening so that she could get a statement from him for the Times. Adrien got the sense that Alya was not the type of person to say no to, so he agreed.

Currently, he was sitting outside of the Lahiffe family home, half-full crate next to him, while Marinette talked and laughed with Mrs. Lahiffe. Snippets of their conversation drifted back to him - they were talking about the cake that Sabine had delivered earlier that day for the younger son’s birthday. How his eyes had lit up at the sight of it. She was telling Marinette to thank her parents for giving the cake to them for free.

Adrien smiled. He really did love the Dupain-Chengs.

“Well, ain’t you the odd egg out,” said a voice from above him, and Adrien looked up to see a friendly looking guy about his age looking down on him. He had brown skin the color of wood chips and burnished sunshine, and he was holding a glass of water out to Adrien. “You look exhausted, man.”

“Just from the heat,” Adrien replied, taking the glass of water from him and taking a sip. It was nice and cool, and he let out a long sigh. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” he replied, and he sat down next to him, giving him a rather sweet smile. “You looked like you were lonely sittin’ over here by yourself.”

Adrien laughed. “Did I?”

“Nah,” the guy said, bumping his shoulder with his. “Just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

“The water wasn’t enough?” Adrien asked.

“Wanted to spice it up a bit,” he said, giving Adrien a shrug and offering him his hand. “I’m Nino.”

“Adrien,” he replied, shaking Nino’s hand. “Nice to meet you. Are you the birthday boy?” he asked, nodding his head back to where Marinette and Mrs. Lahiffe were still talking.

“Nah, that’s my younger brother, Chris.”

“Tell him I said happy birthday, then,” Adrien said, and Nino nodded.

“No problem,” Nino said, stretching his legs out. “I’m sure he’d love to hear that Adrien Agreste himself said it. He’s a big fan of your daddy’s company, you know. He loves all the suits and whatever.”

Adrien raised his eyebrows. “You knew who I was?”

Nino shrugged. “Alya talks. Marinette complains.” He paused, shooting Adrien a grin. “I listen.”

“Well, considering I did give Marinette free reign on insults, I hope what you’ve heard isn’t too bad,” Adrien said with a wince. Nino laughed.

“Course not. Marinette hasn’t got a mean bone in her body, no matter what fronts she puts up.”

“I’ve gotten the sense,” Adrien said, looking back at where Marinette was giving Mrs. Lahiffe her last goodbyes. “I just wish I knew why she doesn’t like me.”

For some reason, that made Nino laugh again. He stood up, and he offered Adrien a hand. “Come by again sometime, Adrien. I have a feeling hangin’ with you would be just the berries.”

“Sure,” Adrien replied, giving Nino a confused smile as Marinette came back.

“See you around, Marinette,” Nino said, ruffling Marinette’s hair as he walked back to his house. “Send Alya my love.” She swatted at his hands and shot him a quick smile before turning back to Adrien. There was an easy light in her eyes, and Adrien smiled at her.

Her lips twitched up at the corners like she wanted to smile back at him, but then she looked away, smoothing her hair where Nino had messed it up. “Ready?” she asked.

“For sure,” Adrien replied, and they moved on.

By the time they finished passing out the packages, the sun was setting, throwing shades of pinks and oranges across the horizon. As they were walking along the Seine, Adrien paused, staring up at the sky. Marinette stopped beside him, and she followed his gaze to the splash of colors that were painted along the clouds.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing the sun set,” Adrien said softly, and there was this-  _ ache  _ in his chest. Like his heart was pulling him toward something, but he wasn’t quite sure what.

Marinette was quiet for a moment. “Me neither,” she finally said, pausing for a moment. “Although I do prefer sunrises.”

“Oh?” Adrien asked, not looking at her. “And why is that?”

“It’s the start of a new day,” she said, and he saw her lift and drop her shoulders. He waited. “And… right before the sun comes, there’s this blue that washes over everything - the sky, the houses, the air. I like that.”

Adrien hummed. He took a chance, and he sat down. “Is blue your favorite color?” he asked, setting aside the empty crate and running his fingers through the plush grass.

She sat down beside him, and Adrien tried to hide his relief. “No,” she said, bringing her knees up to her chest and hugging her legs.

“What is?”

She stared out at the slow-moving water, something small and wistful playing across her expression. “Green.”

“Mine is blue,” Adrien said, and she leaned her chin on her knees.

They were quiet for a moment, and then Adrien began untying his shoes, slipping them off his feet and pulling down his socks. She looked over at him.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to walk barefoot along the Seine,” he said, standing up and spreading his arms wide. She looked at him like she was searching for something. “Someone I love said she liked to do this once. I’ve been meaning to try it out.”

He took a few steps in between her and the water, his arms out beside him as he touched his heel to his toes with each step. He dropped his arms to his side, closing his eyes and facing the water. There was the ache, and there was an itch, low beneath his skin.

“Someone you love,” Marinette repeated, and her soft, smooth voice held a twinge of navy blue in it. Adrien opened his eyes, looking up at the sky, still awash in colors. He would paint this later, he was sure of it.

“She was great,” Adrien said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and moving his eyes along the streaks of color above him. “You’d probably get along well.”

_ “Was _ great?” Marinette asked, and Adrien nodded.

“I haven’t seen her in a while. I don’t think I’ll ever see her again.”

It was almost like he could feel Marinette’s eyes on his back, steady and gentle. “But you still love her.”

“Yeah,” Adrien said quietly, “I still love her.” His eyes moved along a streak of purple that bled into a dark blue. “I hate her a little bit, too.”

Marinette was silent.

He turned around, giving her a smile. “But you probably don’t care much about my feelings. After all, you don’t even like me.”

She held her gaze with his, and a shiver went down his spine, the itch under his skin rising up to the surface. Her bright blue eyes were sad. “I never said I didn’t like you,” she said softly, and he knew, deep in his bones, that she meant it.

It felt like-

It felt like there was  _ something,  _ just beneath the surface. 

It was close. 

He could almost see it, almost make out the colors.

And then she looked away. 

  
  


\---

  
  


Adrien took a deep breath[⁵](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e0CJq_ZbWl4) to steady himself. He was shaking a little bit as he reached for the door knob of his father’s study, and he took another deep breath, trying to reach for the calm and certainty he’d felt when going over to Kagami’s two nights previously.

His hand was still shaking, but he pushed open the door.

His father was sitting at his desk, back straight as he peered over some documents. He made a note on another sheet of paper before looking up at Adrien, cool gray eyes looking him up and down before finally settling on his face.

Adrien was keenly aware of the purple paint smudged on the cuff of his shirt, the wrinkles in his slacks, the lack of a tie around his neck. He clasped his hands behind his back to hide his shaking.

“Good afternoon, Father,” Adrien greeted, and he was quite proud of himself for keeping his voice strong and steady. “I apologize for interrupting you while you’re working, but there’s something I have to tell you.”

His father didn’t say anything, and Adrien took that as a sign to continue. His stomach churned, and he took another deep breath, refusing the urge to run.

“Kagami and I have broken off our engagement.” 

He watched his father place his fountain pen in its stand before folding his hands and looking back up at Adrien. “Why?” he asked, and there was a layer of steel running through the underside of the word.

Adrien had been expecting that question, so he stuck his chin up and let out his rehearsed answer. “We both decided that marriage is not what we wanted from each other. Our friendship and our future business relationship will remain intact.”

His father stared hard at him, and Adrien felt a bead of sweat run down his back. “This is about all of that soulmate nonsense,” he said, and Adrien clenched his jaw.

“It isn’t,” he said.

Straightening out the papers on his desk despite the fact that they were all in perfectly neat order, his father shook his head. “Your mother allowed you to indulge in those frivolous notions of fate and soulmates for far too long. I thought you knew better by now.”

“It isn’t about my soulmate, Father,” Adrien tried again, but his father continued on as if he hadn’t heard him.

“Because of all of those silly fairy tales your mother told you, you will let the business suffer for the impossible and faraway notion of being  _ destined”  _ \- he spit out the word like it was offensive to him - “to someone you will never meet.” He paused, shaking his head. “I knew I should’ve stopped your mother from-”

“Stop talking about Mom,” Adrien interrupted, his fingers curling into fists behind him. His father squinted at him.

“I don’t think I like your tone.”

Adrien pursed his lips.

His father leaned back in his chair, unfolding his hands and tapping a finger on his desk. “You’ve learned disrespect.”

“No, Father,” Adrien said. His father watched him with his gray eyes. “I’ve learned to care about my own boundaries and my own wants.”

“So you’ve learned to be selfish instead,” his father said, and Adrien resisted the urge to laugh.

“I’ve spent nearly every day of the past few weeks working for my city, my  _ community-” _

“An activity that I never put on your schedule-”

“-and I have tried my hardest to give as much as I possibly can to the people that need what I have.” His nails were digging into the palms of his hands. “And when I have asked you for help in improving the lives of the people who are in need, you have hardly given me a cent, let alone an ounce of your time. I may be selfish in your eyes, but you are the selfish one in mine.”

His father stared at him, his expression unchanged. And then he sighed, leaning forward and picking up his fountain pen once more. “If you are quite done, I must begin writing a formal apology to Tomoe Tsurugi asking for her forgiveness and mercy in taking you back as her son-in-law.”

Burning red anger raged in his bones. He stepped forward and stopped his father’s hand with his own. “You will do no such thing.”

“You will let go of me this instant, Adrien,” his father said, voice low, and Adrien hated it. Hated the dark gray tones of his voice.

“Not until you listen to me,” he said, voice growing darker in turn. “You have never listened to me, not since before Mom got sick, and I am tired of it.” His father said nothing, and Adrien pushed on, letting the red inside of him crawl up his throat and form the right words. “I didn’t break off the engagement with Kagami because I have a soulmate - even if I  _ didn’t  _ have a soulmate, I still would’ve done it. Because I’ve realized that I don’t want to continue your legacy. Your legacy makes people suffer, and you turn you back on it like that’s the price you have to pay for art. But I _ never  _ want to turn my back on people who are suffering just so I can live in a mansion surrounded by gold trinkets I won’t even notice go missing. I don’t want to grow up to be you - controlling and angry and bitter. I don’t want to let you bully me into an arranged marriage like your own father did. I want to live on my own terms, and I want to help people like you never have.” 

His words filled up the study, crowding around the two of them and pressing their scarlet fingers into their skin. Adrien let out a shaking breath, letting go of his father’s hand and stepping away.

“And, Father,” he said, voice quiet in all the noise still bouncing around the room, around his skull. “I am not asking for permission.”

He turned around, and he left his study.

He made it all the way to his room, shutting his door behind him, before he crouched down and cried.

His tears tasted like cold, blue relief.

  
  


\---

  
  


“How did it go?” Kagami asked.

“Terrible,” Adrien said. “Great.”

She pulled him into a hug, squeezing him tight in her arms. He knew she understood.

  
  


\---

  
  


Adrien awoke to birds chirping[⁶](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xsdG2mGCj9Y), his eyes opening to the soft blue light before dawn. He rolled onto his back, feeling the grass itch at his arms, and he let out a small sigh, closing his eyes once more.

After visiting Kagami the night before to tell her how it went with his father, he’d been walking back home along the Seine when he just… stopped. And he wondered. 

If he would be let back into the mansion.

If his father had spent the evening writing him out of his will.

If he even cared about those things.

And then he’d fallen asleep.

And now it was the start of a new day, and the sky and the air and everything around him was a gentle, welcoming blue.

He opened his eyes again, taking in all the blues wrapped around him, and he thought,  _ Marinette was right. _

There was a shift in the grass next to him, and he turned his head, eyes widening.

Marinette was sitting beside him - she was sitting by his waist and she was looking out at the river so he couldn’t quite see her face, but he just- he just knew. It was Marinette.

She was wearing worn overalls, the sleeves of her blush pink blouse rolled up to her elbows, the paint legs of her overalls rolled up around her ankles. Her feet were bare.

Adrien sat up, and she gave him a glance, but she didn’t say anything. He thought, distantly, that she seemed to fit so nicely in the blue of the hour.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said, and he mimicked her posture, pulling his legs up to his chest and resting his elbows on his knees. “Why are you out and about at the crack of dawn?”

She leaned back, letting him see a crate with a couple of jugs of milk and a few cartons of eggs inside of it that was sitting beside her. “Supply run before the morning rush,” she said, leaning her chin on her knees.

“You don’t look like you’re in much of a rush,” he said, and she breathed out something that could’ve been a laugh.

“I have time,” she said, and then she tilted her head at him, soft blue eyes looking at him sideways. “Have you been here all night?”

For a moment, Adrien considered lying. Then he looked back out at the calm water flowing along the river, and he sighed. “Yeah, I have.”

He felt her gaze on him, as if he was some sort of puzzle she wanted to solve. He looked over at her, and she looked down at the grass. He smiled.

“You can ask, if you want,” he said, and she played with the ends of her braids, still not looking at him. “I won’t mind, I promise.”

“Only if you want to talk about it,” she finally said, dropping her braids and staring at the river.

Adrien shrugged, flopping onto his back and staring up at the blue sky. He could see hints of yellow creeping along the horizon. “I was afraid,” he said, and she laid down beside him, folding her hands over her stomach.

“Of?”

“Facing my father. We got into an argument, you see.”

She turned her head to face him. “If you need a place to stay…”

“Oh, no,” Adrien said, shaking his head. “You and your family have already done so much, I wouldn’t want to be a burden. And besides,” he said, taking a deep breath, “it’s a new day. I’m not afraid anymore.”

The sun broke over the horizon.

“I think…” Adrien started, furrowing his eyebrows. “I think I was afraid more about the person I’d become, not really about what my father would do to me.” He paused, reaching a hand up to the sky, to the soft yellows smearing in with the blue. “I’ve changed so much, and my argument with my father just proved that I have become someone so different than the person I was before. I was walking home, and it just… It just hit me that I could be whatever I wanted. That I didn’t have to follow someone else’s plan. That I could make my own plan.”

“Scary,” Marinette said, and Adrien laughed.

“Yeah. Very.”

“And exciting,” she said, and Adrien lowered his hand, turning his head to look at her.

He studied her for a moment, watching the dawn break over her face. And he wasn’t- he wasn’t exactly sure if he’d ever thought so before, but she was beautiful. Breathtakingly so.

The lines of her face were soft and smooth, and her cheeks were sprinkled with a collection of freckles. Her lips looked soft and pink, and her skin was pale, but her hair was darker than night, and her eyes… Her eyes reflected the colors of the dawn even as they held all the stars of the night.

His heart ached. He felt his insides buzz. His breath caught in his throat.

“That too,” Adrien finally said, and he realized that she hadn’t looked away from him, that she still hadn’t.

And he thought.

_ Maybe. _

_ Just maybe… _

“I should get back to the bakery,” she said, tearing her eyes off of him and sitting up. 

“Okay,” he said, and he would’ve offered to help her carry the crate, but she stood up and picked it up with such ease and grace that his offer would’ve been pointless. 

“Be careful on your way home,” she said, sliding her feet into her shoes. “And try not to sleep outside anymore. You were just asking to be robbed.”

Adrien let out a surprised laugh, and he saw her eyes twinkle with a smile before she hurried away.

He watched her go, wondering.

She looked back.

He raised his hand in farewell.

She nodded her head to him.

He wondered what she looked like in red.

  
  


\---

  
  


The night air was thick and warm[⁷](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X09Mdwve2XE), and Adrien was glad he’d persuaded Marinette to let him buy ice cream for them both. He told her they’d deserved it after helping organize a community get-together all day, and the walk back to the bakery had been hot enough for her to finally agree.

So now they were sitting on the front steps of the Dupain-Cheng bakery, ice cream in hand. His was pistachio flavored and tasted just about as green as it looked, and hers was strawberry flavored. It was a gentle pink color with chunks of strawberries in it, and Marinette seemed to be enjoying it immensely.

They weren’t talking - as how it normally went with Marinette. But their silences were always so… comfortable now. He liked that he didn’t feel pressured to speak. He liked being around her. 

He thought he might know the reason why.

“Earlier,” Marinette started, and Adrien noticed that she was already nibbling at the cone. A troubled expression passed over her face, and Adrien raised his eyebrows.

“Earlier?” he prompted, and she chewed thoughtfully on the cone. Adrien’s own ice cream was starting to melt on his hand before she spoke again.

“Alya mentioned that you and Nino are probably going to a show soon,” she said, and Adrien got the feeling that wasn’t what she’d planned to say. But he played along anyway.

“Yeah, Nino said he’s friends with the band, so he got us in for free,” Adrien said. He smiled. “He says I haven’t heard real music yet, and he’s about to blow my mind.”

Since first meeting only a week or two ago, Nino had managed to wiggle his way into being Adrien’s best friend. It was strange, but Adrien didn’t really mind it. Nino was cool.

“That sounds fun,” Marinette said, and Adrien nodded.

“I’ll be sure to let you know if I get my mind blown.”

Marinette gave him a small smile before turning back to her ice cream. Adrien tried to eat his ice cream a little faster, licking up where it had dripped onto his hand.

They were quiet for a while longer, and Marinette finished her ice cream. She leaned back on her hands and looked up at the dark sky, littered with stars.

He could see them all in her eyes, too.

As he finished up his own ice cream, she spoke again.

“Alya also said you’re not engaged anymore.” She said it softly, her blue voice tentative.

“Yeah,” Adrien said, smiling and leaning back on his hands, too. Instead of looking up at the sky, he looked at her. “Remember when you caught me sleeping in the grass like a hooligan? That was what my father and I had argued about.”

She nodded slowly. “Did you get in a fight with your fiancé?”

“Nope,” Adrien said, and she raised her eyebrows, looking over at him. “We’re actually pretty good friends.”

“So what happened?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Kagami and I were tired of having to live by our parents’ rules. We didn’t really want to get married, and…” He paused, searching her eyes. “The truth is, Marinette, I have a soulmate.”

She didn’t look surprised. Only a bit sad. “You do?”

“I do,” he said, and there was that buzz underneath his skin, that ache. “I’ve already met her, but I don’t know her real name. Not yet.”

She tilted her head at him. “Not yet?”

Adrien felt his lips curl up into a smile. “She wanted me to forget about her, but I don’t want to. I’m going to find her again.”  _ Maybe I’ve already found her. _

“Do you think she wants to be found?” Marinette asked, and he could hear it, the fear in her voice.

“Maybe not,” Adrien said, his eyes locked with hers. He was sure of it. “But there are things we have to say to each other. Things we promised to do.”

He took hold of her hand, and it was like a spark went through his whole body, setting him ablaze in lovely shades of red. Marinette sucked in a breath, and he knew. He knew it.

“Adrien,” she said, and it was there in her voice, the blues he loved. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized sooner.

“Tell me it’s you,” he said, and it was like he was begging. He leaned his forehead on her shoulder, holding her hand tightly in his hand. “Please, Marinette, tell me it’s you. Tell me you’re L-”

“Stop,” she said softly, and he did. He squeezed his eyes shut, scarlet heat forming at the back of his eyes. Her thumb rubbed over his knuckles, and he let out a shaking sigh. “Go home, Adrien.”

“Please,” he whispered, and she used her free hand to lift his face up. When he opened his eyes, he gasped.

She had taken out a leather cord that had been concealed under her blouse. And there, hanging on the cord looped around her neck, was his mother’s ring.

Before he could say anything, she was tucking the ring back under her shirt and standing up, pulling him up with her. “Go home, Adrien,” she repeated, giving his hand a squeeze, and he knew what she meant.

He brought her hand up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. And then he ran.

  
  


\---

  
  


Adrien moved his fingers over the piano keys[⁸](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XVUY8hoV65I), trying to stop thinking and just focus on the rippling melody of the song he was playing. He was still sweating from his run, but he couldn’t afford rest. He knew he’d end up pacing anyway.

_ Marinette. _

He squeezed his eyes shut, digging his fingers into the keys.

His father would probably be mad at him for playing so loudly so late at night, but at this point, it was just another grievance added to the list.

When he finished the piece, he took a deep breath, and he started over.

_ Ladybug. _

His fingers stumbled. He kept going.

_ Please be here soon. _

He started over. Again and again until he knew how to make the ending bleed into the beginning without even having to pause.

And then.

There was a buzz underneath his skin.

An ache, deep in his chest.

His fingers stilled, and he opened his eyes.

She was there. In her red waistcoat and her polka-dotted socks. She had the scarlet scarf tied around the bottom half of her face. Her blue eyes, so familiar and beautiful, were steady on him.

“Please,” he said, his voice coming out as a whisper, and her eyes flicked down to her hands, covered in her gloves.

She pulled them off, tucking them into her trouser pocket. And then she looked back up at him, and she raised her bare hand, pulling down the scarf until her face was free.

“Hi, Adrien,” Marinette said, and he watched her pink lips form the words, gentle and blue.

_ “Marinette,”  _ he said, and then he was standing up, striding across the room, pulling her close, wrapping her tight in his arms. And there was relief - to the ache in his chest, to the buzz under his skin. He let out something that was almost a sob, holding her closer. 

She fit so neatly into his arms.

They were made for each other.

She fisted her hands into the back of his shirt, tucking her face into his chest and laughing in such a way that Adrien knew meant she felt it too. “You said you hated me,” she said into his chest, and Adrien held her tighter.

“You ran away,” he said into her hair. 

“I was scared,” she said, pulling away from him so that she could look him in the eye. “Of what having a soulmate meant. About  _ meeting  _ my soulmate.” She paused, bringing her hand up to his face and tracing her thumb on his cheekbone. “With you being my soulmate, knowing that I was just a thief and the daughter of bakers, I felt like fate had played a cruel joke on me.”

“Your parents are lovely,” Adrien said, and she laughed, the sound watery and bright. “And you’re the noblest thief there is.”

“Still,” Marinette continued, her smile gentle and sad, “when you told me about your engagement, it felt like another twist of fate. Like everything was telling me that I should just leave and let you live your life without worrying about what being tied to me would mean for your future.”

“You,” Adrien said, taking her hands in his, “are absolutely ridiculous.”

She laughed, a tear slipping down her cheek.

“You are the one who made me realize that I wanted something different for my future,” he said, and he placed her hands on his chest, right above his heart. _“You_ are my future.”

“I love you,” she said, and the words were like a shock to his system, spilling a brilliant and lovely red through his heart.

“You do?” he asked, and she nodded, her smile the color of sunrises and blue hours and music notes and roses and all of the other things he loved. 

“I love you,” she said again, and she laughed while she said it, like those words let her grasp a joy that had previously eluded her. And he laughed with her, feeling all of the colors and completeness and the love bubbling up inside of him.

“I love you, too,” he said, and she grabbed his face with one hand and pulled him down, pressing their lips together, fitting them together.

And she kissed him, her blue smile pressed against his lips.

And she kissed him, one hand still steady on his heart.

  
  


\---

  
  


Adrien dug his toes in the sand[⁹](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jdip2gPN5j4), watching the waves crash and tumble over each other as they reached for the shore. He took a deep breath, the salty gold of the air filling him up, and then he released it, the warm breeze ruffling its fingers through his hair.

Marinette was beside him, her legs tucked up by her chest, her chin leaning on her knees. Her hand was laced with his, and his mother’s ring glinted on her finger.

He brought their hands up to his face, and he kissed the back of her hand.

She opened her eyes, the blue of them brighter than the sky above them. And even now, with the sun out and smiling yellow down on them, he could see each one of those benevolent stars there, caught in her irises.

She stretched out her legs, smiling at him and giving his hand a squeeze. She pressed a kiss to his shoulder, and then she leaned her head there, sighing contentedly.

And Adrien felt, deep in his chest, that this happiness would be with him for the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i must say that this final chapter is, in fact, very long, and i hope that you enjoyed most, if not all of it. in fact, i hope you've enjoyed this entire fic - i certainly enjoyed writing it
> 
> thank you so so much for reading this fic - i know it's only three chapters, but i worked really hard in making this fic something that i can be proud of, something that i hope you loved. 
> 
> you can find me on tumblr/twitter @peachcitt
> 
> <3<3thank you thank you thank you<3<3
> 
> music map:  
> 1\. [Lumino Forest](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rf46Oaamy1w) by Piano Novel  
> 2\. [Serenade in D Minor, Op. 44, B. 77: II. Minuetto](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ogGiYujhCb0) performed by Münchner Bläserakademie  
> 3\. [La Clairière](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MGTIx68sjGc) by Piano Novel  
> 4\. [Bluebird](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gArIvTJdrEc) by Alexis Ffrench  
> 5\. [Give Us This Day: I.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e0CJq_ZbWl4) performed by The University of Texas Wind Ensemble  
> 6\. [Hymn to a Blue Hour](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xsdG2mGCj9Y) performed by the North Texas Wind Symphony  
> 7\. [Reminiscence](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X09Mdwve2XE) by Johannes Bornlöf  
> 8\. [Starry Night](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XVUY8hoV65I) by Remo Anzovino  
> 9\. [The Rose](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jdip2gPN5j4) piano cover by David Shultz

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone if you follow me on tumblr @peachcitt or @peachscribe then you know that this fic turned into a highly musical one, where i drew a lot of my inspiration for scenes from music and that i promised to make a 'music map' for each chapter. this chapter i wasn't as picky, but the piece i drew the most inspiration from is:  
> [This Cruel Moon](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k4NpVsfyRvI) composed by John Mackey
> 
> the next chapter will be coming in roughly six days! on the 20th/21st depending on what time zone you're in
> 
> see y'all then!!<3<3<3


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